


Under Glass

by trepkos



Series: Altered States [7]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Dark Magic, Forgiveness, Humor, M/M, Revenge, Riding, Rough Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trepkos/pseuds/trepkos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The past comes back to haunt Riley and Spike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strawberries and Cream

“Why do I have to wear this stupid hat?” Spike swung the offending item in his hand. “You’re not wearing one.”

Riley treated him to a look of mild reproof. “Well, I know what I’m doing – you don’t. And if you were a human going for his first ride, I’d insist on the hat.” He sighed. “But I guess, as you’re a vampire, I could let you go without it.”

Spike relaxed.

“Though I don’t know why you care,” Riley went on. “I’m the only one’s gonna be looking at you.”

“’S not the point. The universe would know I’d ruined an otherwise immaculate record for sartorial elegance.”

“Black jeans, and a black tee-shirt,” Riley said blandly.

“Yeah.” Spike narrowed his eyes, daring Riley to make anything of it.

But Riley just smiled that easy smile of his, and Spike – pretending not to notice – slung the hat back in the general direction of the tack room, and started towards Suzie, the small chestnut horse waiting in the yard near Riley’s big grey.

“Nah-uh.” Riley stopped him, with a hand on his arm. 

“What?” Spike raised an eyebrow. “Have I got to don forty pounds of protective padding now? Or maybe you’ve got a suit of armour for me.”

Riley laughed. “No, you’re fine. But that’s the wrong horse.”

“What d’you mean, the wrong horse?” Spike glanced around the yard. “Where’s mine then?”

“That one’s yours.” Riley indicated the grey snow-capped mountain he called ‘The Lieutenant.’

“What?” Spike took a step backwards, giving Riley a questioning look. Then he laughed, and pistolled a finger at him. “You’re taking the piss.”

“No I’m not.” Without further ado, Riley went over to Suzie, and swung himself onto her back.

Spike put his hands in his pockets, and looked up at Riley, sitting comfortably on his perfectly-normal-sized horse. “It may have escaped your attention, Riley, my love, but this one –” he indicated Suzie – “is much smaller than –” 

In the face of Riley’s unflappable amusement, Spike didn’t even bother to finish the sentence. He eyed the Lieutenant suspiciously. The horse looked like it was laughing at him too.

“I’m happy to tell you that size isn’t everything.” Riley smirked. “I’d have thought you’d be glad of that.”

“Hey!”

Riley spread his hands. “You’re smaller – I mean shorter, in height – than me. But out of the two of us, I know who I’d be more scared of bumping into, in a dark alley. You know what they say. ‘Crazy beats big, any day’.”

“You got a point I suppose.” Spike gave a reluctant half-smile. “Hey, did you just call me –”

“Crazy?” Riley grinned. “Maybe I did. Suzie’s temperamental. She can be hard to handle.” He lowered his voice. “Definitely seeing a resemblance to someone ...”

“Again, hey!”

But it must have been a conspiracy, because – as if to back up Riley’s argument – Suzie chose that exact moment to take a few impatient prancing paces sideways. 

Riley, unflustered, reined her in, and made soothing noises as he petted her neck.

“You can see how feisty she is, Spike. She’s way too skittish for a novice. She was even thinking about throwing me off last week. But The Lieutenant’s steady as a rock.” He turned to the horse. “You’ll look after him, won’t you boy?”

The Lieutenant tossed his huge head, and Spike swayed back, much farther than was actually necessary to avoid being hit.

“Look,” Spike half-heartedly protested. “He tried to nut me.” 

“He’s just saying ‘hello’.” 

Spike sighed. “Alright then. Despite my better judgement, you’ve convinced me. So exactly how do I get up on this enormous contraption?”

Riley laughed, and shook his head. “The Lieutenant’s not a contraption, he’s a horse. You have to befriend him if you want him to carry you around. He won’t throw you off, but if he takes against you, you’re goin’ nowhere.”

Riley rummaged in his pocket, and passed some pony treats down to Spike. “Here – give him these. Keep your hand flat.”

Spike held the treats out for the horse, his hand so flat as to be almost convex, and The Lieutenant managed to gently snaffle them up before they rolled off his palm.

Gingerly, Spike petted the horse’s nose. It was velvet-soft. “Huh.” Spike cocked his head. 

“See?” Riley smiled. “He’s not so scary.”

Spike frowned. “Well what do I call him? No offence, but ‘The Lieutenant’ is a stupid name. ‘Come on “The Lieutenant”!’ It sounds like I’ve bet my week’s wages on him.”

“You can call him ‘Lefty’, for short.”

“‘Lefty.’ Fine.” Spike turned to the horse and bowed. “Hello Lefty. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

The horse pulled his lips back a little, and blew warm air in Spike’s face.

Spike snorted, and took hold of the reins, then stood, shifting from foot to foot, staring at the living, breathing cliff-face in front of him. “I still don’t know how I’m gonna get up there.” He sounded a little pathetic, even to himself. “I thought this was supposed to be a lesson, not an assault course.”

Taking pity on him, Riley dismounted and came over to give his assistance. “Okay, go round to the near side.”

“I’m standing in front of him,” Spike dead-panned. “Both sides are equidistant.”

“Equi-distant. Funny.” Riley shook his head. “The ‘near’ side is the horse’s left side.”

“And why does it matter which side I climb? Are the crosswinds too strong on the North face?”

Riley laughed. “It doesn’t really matter, but I guess horses are used to being mounted from the left.” He frowned. “Their left, that is. It’s probably because most people are right-handed.”

“So I’m at a disadvantage before I start,” Spike grumbled. Now he came to think about it, he didn’t remember ever seeing anyone mount a horse from the other side, either in real life, or on TV.

“And another thing,” Riley said. “If you have to go round a horse, don’t walk round the back. Not unless you don’t mind getting kicked.”

“Not inspiring me with confidence here, mate.”

“Well, you don’t like people sneaking around behind your back, do you?”

Spike shrugged. “Fair enough.” 

“I’ll hold onto the saddle. You put your left foot in the stirrup, and really throw yourself over, okay?”

Following Riley’s directions, Spike managed to haul himself into the saddle. “Like climbing bloody Everest,” he muttered, as he got himself seated.

“There. How’s that?”

Truth be told, Spike was relieved – and a bit surprised – to find that he was even facing in the right direction, but now that he was safely ensconced atop The Lieutenant, it gave him a completely new perspective on life. “I think I like it up here. I can look down on you for a change.” 

Riley put a hand on his thigh, and grinned. “Not like I don’t let you do that now and then.”

“So. Where’s the ignition?” Spike asked innocently.

Riley shook his head.

“What? I’m on top of a bloody tank, it should have an ignition.” 

“Just kick real hard, and he’ll go,” Riley said, mounting up. 

“You want me to kick your horse?” Spike boggled at him. “You told me to befriend him. I don’t usually kick my friends.”

“Believe me, he’ll hardly feel it. He’ll probably follow me and Suzie, anyway.”

Spike kicked; nothing happened.

“Harder,” Riley said.

Spike kicked again, and this time The Lieutenant began to amble forward. Spike tried to copy whatever it was Riley was doing with the reins. “I hope he’s not gonna decide to gallop off into the sunset with me.”

“He won’t, I promise.” Riley gave him a reassuring smile. “Not without me, anyway.” 

“I hope not,” Spike said softly.

Then they – or rather their horses – set off at an easy pace along a narrow trail between the fields. The sun was high in the sky. All kinds of birds and insects were calling, but Spike couldn’t have put a name to a single one of them. He was sure Riley could have told him what they were, but he wasn’t going to draw attention to his ignorance by asking; it was bad enough that he’d lived this long without ever having learned to ride a horse.

It was actually quite pleasant once he’d got used to the weird feeling of height and movement, though Spike was sure that by tomorrow he’d feel like he’d been straddling the Thames.

He held the Gem of Amara up to see the sunlight refracted through it. It still amazed him that he was free to go out in daylight – seemed too good to be true. He was almost certain he didn’t deserve it. It was like the world had forgiven him for all the horrible things he’d ever done.

“Pretty miraculous, huh?” Riley’d guessed his thoughts.

Spike nodded solemnly. “So where are you taking me?” 

“Not too far. We don’t want to do too much your first time, or you won’t be able to walk tomorrow morning.”

“We can go as far as you like. Don’t let me cramp your style.” Spike sincerely hoped Riley wouldn’t take him at his word.

“You say that now,” Riley replied. “I’ve got somewhere in mind – about an hour down the trail.”

That didn’t sound too taxing. They rode on, between the young corn stalks. Riley made chucking sounds to Suzie, and occasionally looked back over his shoulder to check on him. After a while, the trail widened and they could walk side by side.

Riley glanced across. “How are you doing?”

“Fine!”

Riley grinned. “I was talking to Lefty. He’s never given a vampire a ride before.”

“Do you think he can tell?” Spike squinted at the horse’s ears.

“I’m sure he knows you’re not a normal human. Horses have a good sense of smell, and you don’t have much in the way of body odour for him to detect. Come to think of it, that could be why Jess took a while to get used to you.”

“Huh.”

Even though Spike had tried really hard to make friends with Riley’s dog, Jess never seemed anywhere near as pleased to see him as she was Riley, or the other members of his clan. Spike was man enough to admit – to himself at any rate – that he’d been a little hurt by her indifference. But perhaps there was a reason: he just wasn’t as visible to her doggy senses as a human would be.

The path narrowed again. “Why don’t you take the lead now?” Riley suggested.

“You sure? He’s not gonna bolt, or take me off in the wrong direction?”

“The path doesn’t fork. He’ll be fine. Just keep going as you are.”

Riley reined his horse back to allow The Lieutenant to slip into the lead, and Spike urged the huge beast between his legs forward, smirking at the phrasing in his head as he did so.

They were riding through trees now, and the birdsong had stilled. It was quiet, but for the soft sounds of their horses’ hooves on the trail, the creak of the harness, and the occasional snap of a twig, as they brushed against it. Spike breathed in the scents of leaf mould, and leather, and warm horse. He felt like asking, ‘are we there yet?’ but out of respect for the woodland gods, he refrained from breaking the silence.

After a while, the path took a sharp turn to the right, and suddenly they were out in the open, on the grassy bank of the meander of a river. The water was perfectly still; dragonflies hovered in the air above it. The trunks of the trees on the opposite bank – tall as the pillars of a cathedral – shimmered in the heat haze.

“Fuck, Riley, it’s beautiful.”

“You like this place?” Riley blushed, as though he had planted the trees himself, and dotted the grass with flowers. “This has always been one of my favourite places. Used to come here and skinny-dip as a kid.”

“Used to? What – you don’t fancy it today?” 

“Honestly?” Riley winced. “It’s pretty cold. Didn’t used to notice, when I was younger but …” He shrugged. “Maybe later in the year. Give the water time to warm up.”

Spike nodded. “So what now?”

“You wanna … stay here for a while?”

“Sure – if I can get down off of Lefty here.” Spike scratched the back of his neck. “Only trouble is, I think I left my parachute at home.”

Riley must have known he was kidding, but he got down anyway, and came over to supervise the dismount.

Spike swung his leg over the horse’s back, and slid slowly down into the waiting circle of Riley’s arms. He turned and looked up at him. “That’s more like it. Didn’t really feel natural, my head bein’ higher than yours.”

“You don’t mind that I’m so much taller than you?”

“No,” Spike said. “I like it …”

He didn’t want to think about why, and Riley didn’t ask: just laughed and kissed him. Locked together, they stumbled towards a convenient tree trunk. Riley pushed Spike’s back against it, and for a few minutes they went on kissing, hard and hungry, like teenagers.

Spike was first to break away.

Looking a little flushed, Riley grunted in surprise as Spike held him off. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“Hmmm. Nice as this is, don’t we have to do something about our trusty steeds?” Spike waved a hand in the general direction of the horses, who stood watching them, inscrutable. 

“Like what?”

“I dunno – tie ’em to a tree, or … give ’em a blindfold or something?”

“You think we’re gonna do something to scare them?” Riley grinned. “Nah. Don’t worry. Lefty won’t wander far from me, and Suzie will stay where he stays. Herding instinct. Still, that reminds me …”

Riley rummaged in Suzie’s saddlebags, retrieved a bottle and a plastic box, and set them down. Then he took a bedding roll from behind the Lieutenant’s saddle, and unrolled some blankets and a groundsheet on the grass.

Spike shook his head. “And the Boy Scout strikes again.”

Riley stripped off his shirt, and threw himself down onto the makeshift bed. “Care to join me?”

“Sure.” 

But suddenly, Spike was feeling anything but sure. He hadn’t spent much time in the great outdoors, and – except in dreams – he hadn’t been undressed in daylight since … well, ever actually. Young William Pratt – or ‘Bennett’, as he’d told Riley his name was when they’d first met – would never have dreamed of taking his shirt off outdoors, and in public, however secluded the location. On the few trips he and Mama had taken to the seaside, he’d changed in a bathing tent; the bathing costume had covered up almost as much of his body as his usual attire.

It was foolishness. There was no one to see him but Riley. Even if there were, he had nothing to be ashamed of. Spike dragged his tee-shirt over his head and dropped it on the ground. Then he crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Riley asked him.

“Nothing. Bit chilly, is all.” The sun was warm on his bare shoulders. “Who else knows about this place?”

“Only me and my family. Oh, and some of the guys, but I sent the team over to the other side of the farm,” Riley assured him. “We’re not gonna get any interruptions, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

So: Riley didn’t want any interruptions either. Spike shrugged. “Not bothered.” He lay down on the blanket, trying to look relaxed.

“And now, let’s get you some protection.”

“Not gonna get pregnant, mate.” Spike looked at him sidelong.

Riley shook his head, and produced a tube of suntan lotion.

“Oh, this again,” Spike said. “Don’t think I’m gonna get skin cancer, either.”

“Maybe not – but can I help it, if I feel the need to spread some of this all over that flawless flesh of yours, just in case?” Riley gave him a gentle shove. “Go on – turn over.”

Spike raised an eyebrow.

“Come on! What are you waiting for?”

With a barely audible, “Sir! Yes Sir!” Spike rolled onto his stomach. 

Riley’s weight eased down onto Spike’s thighs, then a cold squiggle of lotion found its way down his spine, and Riley worked it into his back and shoulders, giving him a vigorous massage in the process. But – for a change – one thing failed to lead to another; when Riley was done, he just slapped Spike’s side, and dismounted.

“There, that should do it.” Riley lay down beside him.

Feeling a little cheated, Spike grunted, rolled over, and lay on his back. “What about you? You’re the one in actual danger here, remember.”

“Better do something about it then.” Riley shifted onto his front.

Spike huffed, and straddled him, and began working the sunscreen into Riley’s broad back and shoulders. It seemed almost sacrilege to be coating that golden expanse of tanned flesh with the metallic chemical sheen, masking the natural scent of Riley’s sun-warmed skin with the artificial cocktail. 

Still, it was an opportunity to work up a bit of friction. Hoping Riley would take the hint, Spike made sure his erection nudged against Riley’s ass, as he worked his hands down to the man’s waist. He slid his hands beneath the waistband of Riley’s jeans, spreading sunscreen well past the margin.

Riley gave him a dry look. “I don’t think I can get sunburned through denim.”

“Who says you’re gonna be keeping those on?” Spike ran a languid finger down Riley’s back, and slid it between his buttocks. When he felt the muscles clenching he smiled, slapped Riley’s ass, and got off. “Other side now.”

Riley complied.

Spike trailed a line of sunscreen down the centre of Riley’s torso, and began smoothing it over the firm, smooth curves of his chest. Aware of Riley watching him, he didn’t let their eyes meet. He allowed his thumbs a brief teasing pass across Riley’s nipples, and heard a slight intake of breath. 

Then he made the mistake of meeting Riley’s gaze; it was curious, and slightly detached. Spike felt suddenly foolish, for no good reason except that he’d had so many fantasies about having sex with Riley, in a setting just like this one, that Riley’s scrutiny made him feel like an actor in his own bad porn movie. Perhaps Riley wasn’t in the mood; if so, he was making a complete tit of himself.

“Don’t know why I’m doin’ the bits that you can reach anyway,” Spike said abruptly.

“Because you want to make sure it’s done properly?” 

“Yeah, that’s what it is.” Spike put the cap back on the tube. “What’s next? Do my finely-tuned senses detect some kind of alcoholic beverage?”

“You can smell it?”

“No. I can see it.” Spike pointed at the bottle. “But what’s in the box?”

“Nothing you’ll want,” Riley said confidently, opening the Tupperware box.

It was full of strawberries: red jewels, ripe, and bruised, and encrusted with sugar. Spike reached for one.

Riley looked bemused. “You gonna eat that?”

“No, I’m gonna wear it as a hat. Why wouldn’t I eat it?” Spike shrugged. “You’ve seen me eat stuff before.”

“Yeah. Meat, chocolate –” Riley checked the items off on his fingers: “– deep-fried onions, cakes, and cookies. I’ve never seen you eat anything healthy before.”

Man had a point.

“I can eat healthy stuff!” Spike popped a strawberry in his mouth, and did that lewd thing with his tongue that Riley seemed to like, giving him a glimpse of the fruit before swallowing it down with a triumphant bob of his Adam’s apple. “’Sides – strawberries and cream’s a fine British tradition.”

“Well, I didn’t bring any cream, but how about washing it down with a fine, bargain-priced Merlot?” Riley stripped the metal cap off the bottle, with a flourish greater than the item warranted. “Is that a fine British trad-”

“Give that here.”

Spike left Riley staring at his empty hands. Glad of something to loosen him up, he lay back on his elbows, swigging from his prize, and downed a quarter of it before Riley had the chance to stop him. When, at last, he offered it back, Riley snatched it before he could change his mind, and Riley, too, took a long drink. He kept his eyes fixed on Spike the whole time.

It looked like a challenge.

Well, Riley was in a strange mood. Did he want to have sex or not?

With slow deliberation, Spike dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing it with red wine. Then he reached for another strawberry. He placed this one into his mouth with delicate precision, and manipulated it between his lips.

Riley leaned forward, and tried to snatch a sliver of the tender flesh between his teeth, but Spike held him off, and swallowed it before their lips met.

“Not fair,” Riley softly reproached him.

“All’s fair in love and war.” Spike took another strawberry from the box, and pressed it between Riley’s lips. “All square now?”

Riley leaned forward to mash his lips with Spike’s, and they shared the acid-sweet fruit pulp in the kiss.

When both their mouths were smeared with juice, sugar crystals clinging to their lips, Spike drew back, enticing Riley in with a flick of his tongue, and Riley leaned forwards again, and kitten-licked the sugar from Spike’s lips.

Melting a little, and hardening as well, Spike opened his mouth for another kiss; whimpered when Riley made him wait. 

The man didn’t take his eyes off him, but reached for a strawberry. He held it between his teeth, pressed Spike flat against the blanket, and plastered the roof of his mouth with the fruit, not letting up until Spike was breathless and panting.

~~

Riley pulled back.

Spike tried to follow, but Riley held him down with a hand on his chest, and Spike – his mouth smeared red like a sacrificial victim – surrendered with a soft sigh, and briefly closed his eyes.

Riley’s heart swelled with … something: pride, or lust. He could do anything to Spike – anything he wanted – and Spike would let him. His own breathing was loud in his ears; his heartbeat louder still. He ghosted another strawberry across Spike’s lips, but when they parted to accept it, he took it away, ignoring Spike’s small sound of protest.

He bit the strawberry in half, and smeared a glistening pink trail up Spike’s stomach, and then across to his left nipple; painted it with red juice and squashed the fruit against it, spreading the carmine pulp around the areola. Then he dipped his head, flicked the stiff peak with his tongue, took it between his teeth and – none too gently –tugged it.

“Please …”

Riley knew what Spike wanted: his other nipple needed to be touched, and Spike was clenching the muscles in his chest, as if to make Riley touch it by force of will.

But Spike couldn’t make him do a damn thing. 

Riley just sat back on his haunches, watching Spike squirm and flex beneath him, and looking down at the work he’d done: the pale areola stained red; the nipple, hard and raw and slippery from the mauling he’d given it. He leaned down and blew on it, licked it, then pinched it hard, and ground his thigh between Spike’s legs.

Spike hissed and arched off the ground.

Relenting, Riley brushed his lips across the other nipple, and Spike moaned loudly, pressing it up against his teeth. Riley let it slip between his lips, and nipped it, gently at first. Then he gave it the same treatment as the first, coating it with red pulp; biting then kissing the vulnerable nub of flesh, then biting it again, then going back to the first one, and back again, as Spike kept up a steady stream of soft, and very satisfying, very pathetic sounds of submission, until both nipples were hard, glistening, and tainted with juice and membranous crimson fragments.

His mouth watering at the abstract painting he’d made of Spike’s torso, Riley trailed a contemplative finger down Spike’s ribs, and imagined how Spike would look with each nipple capped with half a strawberry – red fruit against Spike’s creamy skin. His heart sped up. 

From the way Spike was gasping, and biting his lip, and the way Spike’s fingers were digging into his ribs, Spike was reading his mind, and Spike wanted it: he wanted to be treated like a …

Riley murmured breathlessly, “God, Spike – you should see yourself.”

“What … how do I look?” Spike was hoarse with the effort to control himself enough to speak.

But Riley – his mind invaded by all the words for ‘whore’ – just shook his head. Beneath the palm of his hand, he rolled one of the soft fruits over Spike’s left nipple; Spike made a sound he’d never heard him make before – high and breathless. He pinched the other nipple, then crushed it with the pad of his thumb as he ground his thigh into Spike’s crotch once more.

“Fuck, Riley,” Spike choked out. “Gonna make me come in my jeans.”

“You’ve done it to me, more than once.” It was true. For some reason, that bothered Riley now – more than it ever had before. What was he? A plaything?

Determined, now, to make Spike lose it – give it up whether he wanted to or not – he thrust a crude hand between Spike’s thighs, sawing the hard edge of his hand against Spike’s balls, scratching, and fumbling at the seam of Spike’s jeans.

Spike let out a harsh gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Riley squeezed Spike’s erection like he owned it. “You did say the tradition was strawberries _and_ cream.” 

“Please …”

“Please, what?” Riley demanded, his patience thinning.

“Please … don’t …” Spike eyes were wide; the red staining on his face made him seem young and uncertain. “I … um … I have to ride home in these jeans, Riley.”

Riley shook his head. What …? Nothing like this had happened for a while. “Okay.” He snatched his hand away. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking”

But something – some puzzle piece – was missing. Riley knew that what he’d been about to do wasn’t nice … wasn’t kind, and not just for the reason Spike had given. But he didn’t feel it. He should feel bad about it – he wanted to – but what he really felt was … annoyed, that Spike had stopped him.

Trying to steady himself, he placed a kiss on Spike’s stomach, feeling the nervous flutter beneath the skin against his lips. “Sorry,” he said again, trying to mean it; trying to inject concern into his voice. He set to work removing Spike’s boots and jeans.

Spike looked away, then reached for the bottle, and took a long draught as he collected himself.

Riley palmed his cheek. “You okay?”

“’Course.”

But Spike didn’t look okay: he looked worried, and that, too, was now a source of irritation.

“How about you?” Spike asked, his head on one side.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Riley frowned. “I mean, yeah. Just got a little … lost in the moment. Sorry.”

It wasn’t a lie. He was sorry: sorry that he didn’t feel bad, when he knew he should.

“S’okay.” Spike bit his lip, and glanced down at himself. He took a deep breath. “You gonna sort me out, or what?”

Riley followed his glance to where Spike’s cock stood: a scarlet paintbrush against the pale canvas of his belly.

“Sure. I’m gonna sort you out, alright.” He took another fruit in his mouth, crushed it, and went down on Spike, slathering his cock with pulp.

Spike gasped; thrust twice, and came hard, and when Riley raised his head and saw him – pale satin, beaded and stained with red wine and strawberry – he knew he’d ever seen anything so sinful, and so beautiful.

But that was all it was. With a remote feeling of shock, he realised that he didn’t feel anything for Spike, and – for once – he wasn’t feeling anything from him, either. Maybe the ring had stopped transmitting. 

So what if it had? All he wanted was to get inside that temple of sin, and get himself off, and he was going to do whatever it took to achieve it. Everything would be clearer after that.

“I want you,” he said hotly. That, at least, was true.

Spike eyes were glazed. “Yeah.” It was half question, half answer.

Riley crushed another fruit between his palms, and smeared Spike’s balls with it. He buried his head between Spike’s thighs, and lapped and worried at the soft, tight skin.

Spike moaned, and spread himself.

Riley positioned another strawberry against Spike’s hole, and pressed it with his thumb, and now Spike was whining – a soft, desperate sound of need. He was hard again, begging, “Fuck, yeah, oh god, please …”

Then Riley remembered what he’d forgotten to bring. He could take Spike dry, but …

“I want you … but I forgot –”

Spike’s head snapped up. “You forgot the lube.”

Riley quailed under Spike’s astonished gaze. “Spike, I’m sorr-”

“Fine Boy Scout you are,” Spike said breathlessly. “My jeans … front pocket.”

“Thank God!” Riley scrabbled for it. 

Spike lay back on his elbows again, watching him; taking another draught from the bottle. He seemed to be back in control, and that bugged Riley. There was a slight smile on Spike’s face as Riley fumbled with the packet.

Was Spike laughing at him?

“Go on then – get to it.”

Riley thrust first one then another finger into that sacred hole, and now he was the one gasping and moaning, as he and felt Spike relax around him, letting him in. With the other hand, Riley wrestled to open his jeans, and push them down far enough, and slick himself with lube.

Spike hooked a leg over his arm, like the needy little slut he was; but slut or not, his entrance – red, and smeared with fruit pulp – looked like the gateway to heaven. Riley couldn’t wait any longer to be inside; couldn’t wait to feel Spike shudder and clench around him, and cry out his name. 

“Come on mate, have at it,” Spike said. “Horses are alright, but this is the ride of your life.”

~~ 

They rode home.

“Whose brilliant idea was it to shag the novice rider raw, halfway through the first lesson?” Spike ground himself on the saddle, and made a face that was half pain, half ecstasy.

“Guilty as charged,” Riley said ruefully.

“Seriously though.” Spike glanced at him. “You lost it a bit there mate – you do know that, don’t you?”

“I know. I dunno what happened there. It was like … I’m not gonna make any excuses. Remember that time when we’d just come here? The night we moved into the cabin?”

“I remember,” Spike said. “That was my fault – at least partly. And you were coming down off your Mad Professor’s drugs at the time. But they’re well out of your system, and I don’t think I did anything this time, that might have set you off.”

“I don’t think so either.” Riley looked worried. “This was … I don’t know. It was probably nothing. Can we not talk about it?”

Spike frowned. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

There was a commotion up ahead. A figure wearing camouflage gear stumbled out of the undergrowth onto the path, and fell in an exhausted heap.

Riley dismounted, ran over to the man, and turned him over. “Graham?”

~~


	2. Ashes and Snow

Not much light found its way through the broken and boarded-up windows; even at midday, the abandoned chapel was bitterly cold and dark. 

Ethan leaned against a pillar, watching the professor.

She knelt on the stone slabs, and, with a piece of chalk, drew a pentacle on the floor. Around the pentacle she drew a circle which touched all five points, and at each of the points, she set a black candle.

Ethan cleared his throat. “I must admit, I’m impressed. When they put us in adjacent cells, I never thought I’d meet a scientist so enlightened as to convert – much less become such a magical adept.”

Professor Walsh did not look up, but reached for a box of matches, and began lighting the candles. “One must believe the evidence of one’s eyes. There was no logical reason why you should be given better food than I, or more time in the exercise area, or better quality bed linen. Why you were allowed to smoke in defiance of the signage, and to keep your own clothes, when I was forced to wear prison attire.”

The flickering candlelight cast ghoulish shadows across her face. “I observed you for hours, and never saw you offer the guards sexual favours. The only explanation available to me, however improbable, was that you were telling the truth about the existence of magic, and your expertise in the field, and that you were using magic to influence them.”

“Of course,” Ethan said dryly. In truth, the experimental regime to which he’d been subjected had stripped away most of his powers. It had been his natural charm – or possibly Maggie Walsh’s lack of the same – that had got him better treatment than she, from the boys in Nevada.

But he wasn’t going to tell her that. If she were to find out how little he had left in the tank – a few weak glamours and diversion spells – and that it was her extraordinary rage, and the fervour common to all new converts, that had blasted them out of their cells, with just a little finessing on his part, there was no knowing what kind of trouble he’d be in.

Maggie picked up a brown paper bag, with ‘Cleveland Occult: for the Extraordinary needs of Ohio’ printed on it, and tipped the contents onto the floor. She opened a pack of hand-made paper, embedded with yellow rose petals, and wrote ‘Riley Finn’ and ‘Hostile 17’ on a single sheet, with a piece of charcoal. Then she began examining the pieces of mandrake root, apparently trying to select the one that looked most human.

“Good thing I was there,” Ethan said. “Otherwise that scoundrel might have got away with it.”

Maggie tried – and failed – to hide her annoyance at being reminded of her dependence upon him. 

Ethan had let her walk into ‘Cleveland Occult’ and ask, in plain terms, for exactly what she wanted. She hadn’t troubled to convince the owner that she was more than a dabbler, and had – predictably – been fobbed off with ginseng for mandrake root, and crow, instead of raven feathers. She’d only been allowed to leave with the genuine goods when Ethan had gone in with her, inveigled himself with the proprietor, and vouched that she was his apprentice.

And without his endorsement, she certainly wouldn’t have been able to purchase the Orb of Thessulah: not with the thing that roiled black and threatening at its heart that had so taken her fancy.

As she got things ready, she was muttering about someone being ‘born to lead, born to command.’ Probably talking about herself. The good professor was certainly not averse to telling _him_ what to do, when it suited her. 

Still … that wouldn’t last forever. Now that he was away from the influence of that dread machine, his natural powers should return in time. Then, they would see which of them was the junior partner.

Maggie had power, but she tried to practice magic as if it were an exact science. That rather pricey blond Action Man – just one of a collection of dolls she had purchased, to represent those she hoped to control – well, it wasn’t a bad idea, but Ethan would have made do with a piece of camouflage material.

In a moment of whimsy, he said, “‘Action Man’ doesn’t have a heart, or a soul, for you to influence, you know. He doesn’t even have genitals.”

Maggie looked up, and frowned at him. “Who is this ‘Action Man’?”

Ethan pointed at the doll.

“That’s GI Joe.” Maggie’s eyes burned, and the candle flames seemed to flare in sympathy. “Riley is GI Joe.”

“I do beg your pardon.” Ethan remembered what had happened to the rather hunky fellow in the security detail who had annoyed her. He didn’t fancy being on the end of one of those.

“And what have genitals to do with it? A warrior should be celibate. He belongs on the front line. He was born to fight vampires, not to give himself over to their unhealthy appetites.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I’m merely pointing out that you don’t need exact copies of people. It doesn’t matter whether your figure is GI Joe or Dolly Parton, so long as you believe it to be this Finn fellow. These facsimiles will help focus what’s in your mind, but the items we acquired at the farm – things with an actual connection to your subjects – are much more important. With those, and a strong will, you should be able to get what you want.”

“What I want?” Maggie’s calm tone was belied by the jerky movements with which she straightened the toy soldier’s fatigues. “There’s nothing left of what I want. He destroyed everything I’d made, everything I worked for. I trained him for a mission, and he threw it away, for a –” she almost spat, “a filthy disgusting vampire.”

“How awful for you.” Ethan covertly wiped a fleck of Maggie’s spittle from his cheek. His diplomatic skills were being sorely tested. He’d always found dalliances with vampires to be quite pleasant, so long as you established ground-rules from the start. “This Riley Finn. You obviously ... miss him terribly?”

“Miss him? That ungrateful pup. I could understand it if he was just using the creature. He could have done anything he wanted with his vampire whore for all I cared.”

“But I thought you said –”

“Riley let it use _him_. Let it make a fool of him, and me. Because of him, I lost everything. So now, I’m going to take away everything he ever loved. Starting with that vampire.”

The professor held GI Joe down on the communion table, grabbed the Bowie knife they had stolen from Riley’s cabin, and stabbed it into the doll. She was clumsy; the knife skidded off the plastic, and glanced off her hand. Blood spurted up from the cut, splattering the communion table and everything on it, including a pot containing a small device: metal and wires and silicon and bits of dead flesh. 

“Ah. The purity of revenge as a motive …” Ethan murmured.

He rubbed at the spot between his eyes. He was already bored. Yes, it irked him to think that this Riley fellow had something to do with his incarceration … though right at this moment, the details were hazy. It might even have been a dream. But it was Giles’ betrayal that was clear in his mind: reporting him to the military, just because of a little transformation spell. Rupert, old fart that he was, never had been able to take a joke.

“Oh, it’s more than revenge,” Maggie assured him. “Much more. And I think I’m ready to make a start, don’t you?”

Ethan looked at what she had laid out on the communion table, and on the ground near the pentacle. “It would appear so. Please proceed.”

Maggie knelt once more, and raised her hands in the air in supplication. “Great Eris, Goddess of Discord! Sow your seeds between Riley Finn and Hostile 17.”

The candles flared, and the air thickened in expectation.

Ethan held up a hand. “’Hostile 17’?” 

The magical field collapsed, blowing out the candles.

The professor turned on him. “That was his designation, yes.” 

“Well that’s no use. It has to be a name he acknowledges – not a label you forced upon him.” Ethan picked up the wallet they’d taken from the cabin and flipped it open. “The name on his driving licence is ‘William Bennett’. You’ll have to start the ritual again.”

Hissing with frustration, Maggie wrote ‘Riley Finn’ and ‘William Bennett’ on a second sheet of handmade paper. She re-lit the candles, and raised her hands once more.

“Oh Great Eris, Goddess of Discord! Sow your seeds between Riley Finn and William Bennett. May their hearts grow careless, and their bed, cold. May they find no peace or comfort together.”

She folded the paper, used the Bowie knife to cut it roughly in half, so that the names were on separate pieces, and dropped them over an earthenware bowl in the centre of the pentacle. The fragments fluttered, as if struggling against gravity, and then dropped like stones.

She counted out thirteen raven feathers, and let them float gently into the bowl on the thickened air. Then there were some of the hairs she had taken from Riley’s comb, and – to represent the vampire – she took the chip out of its glass jar, and scraped some dried brain matter off the wires, and into the bowl.

Last into the mix went the Mandrake root.

She lit a taper from one of the black candles and touched it to the pile. A pungent aroma filled the chapel as the mixture burned, and Ethan coughed.

While the ashes were still smouldering, Maggie set the GI Joe doll on its feet on the communion table. “And now, I think it’s time Riley Finn learned what it’s like to be incarcerated.” She covered the figure with a bell jar. She did the same with a toy figure of Dracula. “You too, Hostile 17. Back in captivity, where you belong.”

She removed the stopper from the top of Dracula’s glass prison, and tipped half of the ashes into it. She must have knocked the jar as she replaced the stopper, because the little plastic vampire toppled, and came to rest at an angle, leaning against the side of the glass.

She poured the rest of the ashes over the toy soldier, and, as they swirled around him, the figure choked, and pressed its hands against the glass.

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

Maggie took an astonished step back, then turned to the jar containing the vampire, and made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Why is one of the figures animated, and not the other?” 

“I honestly don’t know.” Ethan hadn’t expected any such thing to happen to either of them. “As a vampire, he’s technically dead. Perhaps this is as lively as it gets.”

“Never mind. This is just the start.” There was steel in Maggie’s voice. “Once Graham is in place, we’ll have a better idea what we’re doing – inside information.”

“Indeed. It was lucky we ran into him in Sunnydale. The trail was cold. Riley would have been hard to track down without the personal connection.”

Maggie looked doubtful. “Graham Millar took us on a wild goose chase to Ohio first, or have you forgotten that?”

“We would have had to go to Cleveland for specialist magical supplies, in any case.”

Ethan picked up a snow-globe, shook it, then set it down, and watched as a tiny figure pushed its way through the tiny trees, and landed on a path in front of two figures on horseback. “He brought us to the right town. Soon he’ll be sending us the soundtrack too.” 

~~


	3. An Unexpected Guest

“Thank God I’ve found you!” Graham breathed a sigh of relief as he looked up into Riley’s face.

“Why? What’s happened?” Riley put an arm under his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Hey!” Spike called out. “Who the hell –”

“It’s Graham.” Riley looked over his shoulder at Spike. “You remember Graham, from Sunnydale?”

Spike stared at the man’s face. “Oh, I remember him alright. Told you not to go all ‘Pretty Woman’ over me, as I recall. Didn’t appreciate the implication.”

Graham’s face fell. “Hostile 17 …” He scrambled to his feet.

“You remember me, too. I’m touched. But the name’s ‘Spike’, if you don’t mind.”

Graham glanced from Spike to Riley. “Hey, I’m sorry for what I said back then. Looks like I was out of line.”

Spike puffed out a breath. “Looks like. So what the bloody hell are you doing here? Not enough demons to chase in Sunnyhell?”

“The Initiative was closed down. I’m with a different unit now.” Graham shook his head. “Or, I was. I was looking for Riley but …”

“Why?” Riley said. “Do you need my help? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

The man certainly looked like he was in trouble. His camouflage gear was muddy and ripped, as if he’d swum through a swamp, and crawled through a briar patch to get here.

“I don’t know.” Graham’s brow creased with a worried frown. “I had to warn you about something. Or I thought I did.”

“Warn me?” Riley glanced around to see whether Graham had been followed. “About what?”

“I wish I knew. Last few days are kind-of a blur, like I’ve been trying to find my way through a blizzard or something. Just knew I had to find you.”

“Well, I guess we’d better get you back to my place.” Riley glanced at Spike, who gave a curt nod. “Our place.”

“How far is it?” Graham looked exhausted.

“Not too far. You ride, don’t you?”

“Used to.” Graham nodded. “Used to ride all the time.”

Riley dismounted. “You take Suzie then. Don’t stand for any nonsense from her. I’ll ride with Spike.”

Riley held Suzie’s saddle while Graham mounted, then he got up behind Spike. The Lieutenant didn’t baulk at the extra weight, and Spike set off in the lead; Suzie and Graham followed on behind. It wasn’t long before they were in the yard, dismounting.

Jess came out from under the house, yawning and stretching out, and Riley went down to his haunches to greet her. “Hey girl.” 

The dog began trotting towards him, then stopped and stared, her head cocked. After a moment, she approached cautiously, and sniffed his hand. She whined softly. Then she just turned away, and went to greet Spike, and the new addition to the pack.

Riley huffed. “Don’t go all soft on me, will you?” He turned to Graham. “So – do you have somewhere to stay?”

“If I do, I can’t tell you where it is.” Graham patted himself down, but found nothing in his pockets except for a few dollar bills and some string. “I don’t seem to have much of anything with me.” He put a hand to his neck, then gestured helplessly at the lack of dog-tags. “Not even ID.”

Riley found himself wishing Graham had pulled a motel room key from one of his pockets. “Well, I guess you can sleep in the barn till we work out what’s goin’ on.”

He felt oddly reluctant to offer even this small hospitality. The days when Graham had been his friend seemed long ago and far away.

Spike drew Riley aside. “Give the man a break.” He looked puzzled, though whether by his own attitude, or Riley’s, was hard to say. “He’s your mate, isn’t he? Look at the state of him. You can see he’s been sleeping rough.”

“Well, the barn will be an improvement then,” Riley said bluntly. “He’s not staying in the cabin.”

Spike snorted and took a step backwards, with his hands raised. “Fine. I wasn’t suggesting that. But no one’s using your old room. Why don’t you put him up in there?”

Graham looked from one to the other, picking up fragments of the exchange. “Hey, the barn is fine with me. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“No trouble, mate.” Spike shot Riley a questioning glance. “Just let me clear it with the lady of the house, and we’ll get you fixed up.” 

Not really caring where their uninvited guest laid his head, just so long as he didn’t have to think about it, Riley shrugged, and – taking that as a ‘yes’ – Spike made off towards the main house, with Jess tagging along behind him.

Riley rubbed his hands together. “So …” 

Graham waited for him to go on.

But Riley couldn’t think of anything to say. This was just too weird. The awkward silence stretched. Riley was just about to ask Graham, again, what he thought this warning might be about, when Spike appeared on the porch, gesturing to Graham.

“Come on. You can get a cleaned up, and we’ll find you some gear.”

Riley just stood in the yard, with his hands in his pockets. He felt like he was looking out of a fishbowl.

He began to unbuckle The Lieutenant’s saddle.

~~

“So, where are you from, Graham?” Sarah scooped chilli con carne onto his plate.

“Arkansas.”

“And you served with Riley?”

Graham’s mouth was already stuffed with food, but he managed to mumble an affirmative.

“Quit plaguing the man with questions,” Josh said. “Can’t you see he’s famished?”

Graham grunted an apology, but he didn’t stop eating for some time. When he’d finished one plateful, and made progress with another, he paused for long enough to examine the surface of the dining table: the many names, carved by many different hands. “This is amazing.” He traced one of the names with his finger.

“Just not very hygienic,” Riley said, under his breath.

Josh choked on his food. “This, from the boy who would have shared a plate with the dog, if we’d have let him.”

Graham grinned. “But who did all this?”

“We’ve all contributed, from time to time,” Josh said.

“And these are all members of your family?” 

Sarah put down her fork. “Anyone can qualify for an honourable mention. We don’t put our own name there, just the name of anyone who’s away. Anyone we miss. I like to think it helps to bring them home.”

Riley snorted.

“What’s up?” Josh said. “It’s brung you home often enough.”

“Crap,” Riley muttered.

Spike looked up sharply.

“You’re here aren’t you?” There was a mischievous glint in Josh Finn’s eye.

Riley rose to the bait. “I drove here in an SUV – didn’t fly in on a magic carpet. Your precious table didn’t bring ‘Prince’ home did it? Or any of the others that have died?” 

Sarah was staring at Riley as if he’d grown horns. “Even if they can’t come home, it keeps them in our hearts.” Her voice, though it was calm, discouraged argument.

“Whatever.” Riley pushed his plate away, jerked his chair back, got up from the table, and went out.

Josh and Sarah exchanged glances.

Graham glanced around the table and spread his hands, as if he felt responsible for what had just happened. Then he got up and followed Riley.

Spike went after him down the hall, but stopped in the doorway.

Graham was leaning against the porch rail, alongside Riley. “I’ll move on. Tomorrow morning, I’ll get moving. Go back to …” Graham paused. “What date is it?”

“June fifth,” Riley told him.

“Shit! My leave ended two days ago. I’m AWOL.” Graham put his hands on his head. “How’d that happen?”

“You should stay, anyway. At least till we’ve figured out why you’re here. Another day won’t make any difference.”

The way Riley said it, Spike could have taken Graham for an annoying second cousin who had just shown up drunk on the doorstep, rather than an old friend.

Graham ran a hand through his hair. “I’m in the way. Causing trouble for you.”

Riley shook his head. “It isn’t anything you’ve done. I’m just feeling kind-of … I dunno. Like all this sentimental crap is too much. Waste of time.”

“I hear you. Sounds like you’re goin’ a bit stir-crazy.” Graham slapped Riley on the back. “Missing the action. I tell you, after Professor Walsh got sent to Nevada, there was one hell of a de-briefing, but we’re back on track now, fighting the good fight. Ever think of joining up again?”

“Can’t, even if I wanted to.” Riley stood up straight, and put his hands in his pockets. “Dishonourable discharge, remember?”

“I didn’t hear about that. Soon after you left, it all went to hell.”

“Yeah, well. My service record won’t have gone to hell, unless hell is a filing cabinet in the Pentagon, so there’s no point even thinking about it.”

“That blows.” Graham looked out into the darkness. “I mean, I know you had your reasons, so I guess it was worth it.”

Spike was almost sure neither of them had noticed him lurking in the doorway.

Riley sighed. “I guess.” 

With a sick feeling in his stomach, Spike quietly retreated to the cabin.

But even in here, something was off; there was a strange smell about the place. He couldn’t work out where he’d smelled it before, but it sent a shudder down his spine.

He sat down on the end of the bed, and turned on the TV.

~~

It wasn’t long before Riley came in. He clapped Spike heartily on the back.

Spike looked at him sidelong. “Cheered up, have you?”

“I’m fine. When was I not cheerful?”

Spike shrugged. If Riley wanted to pretend he hadn’t been weird all afternoon, and obnoxious at dinner, Spike wasn’t the man to stop him.

“You wanna … go to bed?” Riley sat down, and began taking off his boots.

Spike glanced at the clock. It was only nine. “Sure. Why not?”

Without another word, they both stripped, and got under the covers.

Before Spike had even got settled, Riley was all over him, squeezing and mauling bits that were still a bit tender from the sex and the riding this afternoon.

“Hey! Ow! Steady on, Soldier.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Riley snapped, rearing up, and pressing down on Spike’s chest with one hand.

Spike snorted, and pushed him off. “Was a request, not an order. But if you’re gonna be like that –”

“Like what?”

“All …” Spike waved a hand vaguely in the air. “All weird –”

Riley scoffed. “Who are you calling weird? I’m not the one who drinks blood, and needs a magic ring to go out in daylight.”

Spike stared at Riley for a moment, waiting for the punch-line.

There wasn’t one.

Spike puffed out a breath, pulled his jeans and boots on, grabbed a tee-shirt and – dragging it over his head as he went – left the cabin, slamming the door. He went back to the house, and sat with Sarah, and Josh, and Graham, watching TV, and trying to pretend nothing was wrong.

When Sarah went out to make tea, she laid a hand on his shoulder as she went past.

Spike sighed softly.

Sarah looked at him, a question in her eyes, and jerked her head towards the kitchen, but Spike just shook his head, and sat tight.

After an hour of awkward conversation and sniping at the TV, he went back, ready to try and sort things out.

But Riley was snoring, so he just lay down beside him, and failed to get any sleep.

~~


	4. Missing in Action

Before dawn, Riley got out of bed, and quietly started pulling on his clothes.

Spike had been hoping – expecting, really – that Riley would lean across to wake him with a kiss … an apology. When he didn’t, Spike hadn’t known what to say to him, so he just feigned sleep, and let Riley slink out without a word.

Later on, Sarah told Spike that Riley’d taken a packed lunch, and gone to work in the fields to the south-east – the most distant part of the Finn property. Then, at 5 o’clock, Riley called her to say that he was going to eat out with some of the guys.

Called Sarah.

He hadn’t called Spike all day, and Spike was damned if he was going to be the one to crack first.

Graham, by contrast, was still hanging round the farm like a lost dog. Spike wondered whether _he’d_ looked like that when he’d first come here. What was Graham doing here anyway? Perhaps the warning he’d come to deliver was that he was about to usurp Spike’s place.

But no; much as Spike was in the mood to play the blame game, he didn’t get that vibe off Graham. The man seemed genuinely lost. 

Spike begged off dinner, and stayed in the cabin. He switched on the TV, and flicked channels until he was sure there was nothing on worth ignoring. He wandered around, picking things up and putting them down again. He sat by his bedside table, and stared at it.

Something was missing: something that was always there. His chip – the little glass pot with his chip in it – was missing.

Maybe Riley’d moved it. 

Spike looked in the drawer, and on Riley’s bedside table, then on every other available surface, but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

It wasn’t like he needed it for anything, but still …

Maybe Riley’d taken it to show Graham. That would be a bit off.

A lot of things about the last couple of days seemed a bit off, but Spike was prepared to believe that he was being too sensitive. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

He sniffed, and sat down at the computer, where he tried to occupy himself: messing around with something he was writing – re-arranging sentences. But he couldn’t stop going over and over things, trying to work out whether he’d done something wrong. If he had, he couldn’t for the life of him think what it was. 

Then one of those chat window thingies appeared in the corner of the screen. Spike puffed a little impatiently at the interruption, but the truth was, he wasn’t getting anywhere much, and he was quite glad to know someone wanted to communicate with him – even if it was only Harmony.

Turned out she was pretty much on her own too. The Hyperion gang had left her and Genevieve minding the store, while the rest of them were on some jaunt to a parallel dimension.

‘You okay with that, Harm? All alone, in that big spooky hotel, with only Gen for company?’

‘Spikey! Hello! I am the spooky! I’m a vampire, remember?’

He had actually forgotten. Hell, he was almost forgetting he was one himself, what with the going-out-in-daylight and all.

‘But I’m bored,” Harmony said. “Genevieve is off doing … something, somewhere else, so guess what?’

‘Okay, what?’

‘I’ve decided I need to improve my skill-set, so I’ve been reading up on magic.’

Spike winced. ‘You should leave the hocus-pocus to the professionals, Harm.’

‘Well, how did they get to be professionals?’ she replied, reasonably enough. ‘They must have started somewhere. Willow did it all by herself, with books and stuff. She’s not much good at fighting, but she helps Buffy with magic. So I thought I could be like Willow, but for Angel Investigations. Then I’d be useful, like a real part of the team. Maybe then, Angel won’t keep leaving me behind.’

Spike felt a pang of sympathy. ‘Well, just be careful. That stuff can be dangerous. Don’t go turning yourself into a bright pink newt, alright?’

‘Spikey! I didn’t know you cared!’

‘Well, I do. A bit. But don’t tell anyone, okay? How’s Gen doing, anyway?’

So they made inconsequential chit-chat for a while, and it made Spike feel a little better. But when Riley finally came in, at around ten, Spike quickly typed, “Night Harm. Gotta go,” and closed the chat window.

He didn’t turn around – just waited for Riley to say something.

But Riley still wasn’t speaking to him. Spike heard first one boot, then the other, hit the floor; the sound of teeth being cleaned, and then the creak of the bedsprings. He turned, to see Riley sitting up in bed, reading a book. The cover featured men in uniforms, carrying guns.

Spike turned off the computer, and heaved a deep, attention-seeking sigh; Riley didn’t seem to notice. Finally, Spike couldn’t stand it any longer. “Ground Control to Riley Finn.”

Riley looked up, with a start. “Spike. I didn’t see you there.”

“What am I? The Invisible Man?”

“No, I … just wasn’t expecting you to be sitting there.” Riley frowned.

“Well, where did you think I’d be?”

“I don’t know.” Riley was starting to look annoyed. “I didn’t think about it at all. I don’t always know where you are, I don’t have to. I’m not your keeper.”

Wounded, Spike lashed out, “What crawled up your arse, and died?” 

Riley stared at him, as though he was trying to remember something. He twisted the ring on his finger. Then he shook his head. “Sorry, I … don’t know where that came from. Things have been weird today. I’m feeling … dunno, like I’m not really here, or something. And seeing Graham like that …”

“You’re bored.” Spike pistolled a finger at him. “We could go back to LA. Angel’s off somewhere, and Harmony says a few cases have come in –”

“It’s not that.”

“What then?” Spike felt suspicion crawling under his skin. “And what’s Graham got to do with it? Hey, you two weren’t –”

“No – we weren’t! Don’t be ridiculous. Why does everything have to be about sex, with you?”

“It’s not! It’s –”

“I don’t know what it is,” Riley cut Spike off. “I just feel … kinda trapped. I think it’s just … one of those things. Maybe I’m at a difficult age, or something. Or maybe I just need to sleep. It’ll be better in the morning.”

“Sure it will.”

Really hoping so, Spike stripped and got into bed alongside Riley. But though they lay side by side, they might as well have been on different planets. Riley pretended to sleep, and Spike pretended not to know he was pretending, though Riley’s act wasn’t very convincing. He kept twitching as though something was biting him. 

Spike lay dead still, staring at the ceiling.

How could Riley not even have known he was there, when he came in? Perhaps the enchantment on the ring was wearing off. Come to think of it, Riley hadn’t seemed too clued in on his feelings for a day or so – or if he was, he’d ignored them.

Spike lay there for over an hour, shifting around, unable to relax, and in dire need of a cigarette. Finally, he slid out of bed, retrieved his secret stash from on top of the wardrobe, and went outside.

Graham was sitting on the porch of the main house, looking up at the stars.

Spike wandered over. “Mind if I join you?” 

Graham shook his head. 

Spike edged past him up the steps, leaned over the porch rail, and lit up. When he’d taken a couple of draws on the cigarette, he felt calm enough to speak again. “Hey, Graham?”

“Yeah.”

“Did Riley happen to show you the chip they took out of my head?”

“No, he didn’t.” Graham’s head whipped round. “Someone took it out?”

“Angleman.”

Graham started to get up, then apparently thought better of it. “Guess you’d have bitten me by now, if you’d wanted.”

“‘We never bite our friends’,” Spike said dryly. “Or _their_ friends.”

Graham nodded. “Good to know.”

Spike wasn’t even sure that Riley still counted him as a friend. Perhaps he should go and find out.

In a little while.

He smoked a few more cigarettes.

“Night, then,” he said.

“Night, Spike.”

But when Spike – his emergency pack of cigarettes somewhat depleted – got back to the cabin, Riley was lying on his side, with his face to the wall. He gave no outward sign of having noticed Spike’s return, so Spike let him think he didn’t know he was awake. If Riley didn’t want to talk to him … well, what was the point in forcing it?

He slipped into bed. Riley lay still as stone.

Was this it then?

Spike felt a quiet panic awaken in his belly. He tried not to think about it, but he could hear himself taking ragged breaths. It was bound to be annoying Riley, and the more he tried to stop doing it, the louder they became. There was a lump in his throat. His eyes were prickling. A tear ran down the side of his face, and into his ear.

At some time after 3 am by the bedside clock, Spike fell into an unquiet sleep.

~~


	5. Experimental Error

Ethan yawned. It had been a long couple of days in this chilly old building, and Maggie Walsh’s company wasn’t making the time go any faster. There was nothing to do, nowhere to take a bath, and the plumbing in the loo in the vestry wasn’t working.

Maggie was hunched over the snow-globe. Reception inside the chapel was a little sketchy at times – Ethan put it down to interference from the sonic residue of years of prayer and hymn-singing that still clung to the old stones – but they’d still managed to pick up some of Graham’s conversations with other members of the Finn household.

Maggie tutted, rose from her crouch, went to the communion table. “I don’t understand it.” She frowned at the jars, and tapped the one containing the figure of Dracula. “What I’ve seen in the globe shows that the spell is working perfectly on Riley, but having no effect on the vampire. Perhaps magic is ineffective against demons.”

“Or perhaps his driving licence is in a false name.” Ethan buffed his nails against his jacket. “That seems more likely. You could try doing the ritual again, using the name he normally goes by. Everyone seems to call him ‘Spike’.”

The name rang a bell in his mind. He’d seen the vampire before, hadn’t he? Some years ago … A memory presented itself, of mayhem, one Happy Halloween in Sunnydale.

The vampire seemed very different now – much less chaotic – but Ethan wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself that he was becoming quite fond of his fellow countryman. Spike’s willingness to put up with the shoddy treatment his partner was meting out – thanks to their dabbling – gave Ethan an empathetic ache somewhere inside, and his dislike of Maggie Walsh was growing exponentially.

As he watched Maggie selecting the next-best mandrake root and raven feathers, scraping more material off the little device, and writing the names on the handmade paper, Ethan began to wonder whether this was worth his while. He was seriously considering doing his trademark skedaddle. Maggie probably wouldn’t keep her side of the bargain anyway, once she’d got what she wanted – whatever that really was.

She was busy lighting candles and didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him, so Ethan wandered casually between the pews, working his way towards the far end of the chapel, and the door.

Meanwhile, Maggie set light to her concoction, and began the ritual. “Oh Great Eris, Goddess of Discord. Sow your seeds between Riley Finn and Spike. Fill their bed with thorns and their hearts with briars. May they tear each other, tooth and nail.”

She really was a spiteful old hag.

As if she’d heard him speak his thought out loud, Maggie turned, quick as a snake. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

Ethan flinched, but carried on towards the door. “I just thought I’d take a walk outside. Last time you did this, the fumes made my eyes water.”

“Come back here. You’re supposed to be assisting me.”

Ethan swallowed, and reluctantly made his way back to her, keeping his hand over his mouth to avoid breathing in the acrid fumes, but giving a little theatrical cough to make his point.

When the ashes had cooled, Maggie removed the stopper from the top of the bell-jar containing the miniature soldier, and tipped half of the ashes on top of him.

He looked up, choking, and brushing ash from his face, then leapt into the air, trying to reach the opening. 

Maggie slammed the stopper into the neck of the jar. She nodded approvingly. “That’s my boy. Still fighting!” She poured the remainder into the jar containing the toy vampire, then she waited, tapping impatiently on the glass.

Once again, nothing happened.

_“Why isn’t this working?”_

In case she decided to vent her anger at him, Ethan took a step back behind a pillar. “Well, perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it’s because he’s a vampire.” 

“You’re supposed to be the expert!” Maggie was almost spitting. “The connection I most want to break – and it isn’t working.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry. Riley is already turning against him.” Ethan sighed. “That should be enough to break them up quite soon, unless this Spike fellow is some kind of masochist.”

It wasn’t inconceivable. How long had he, Ethan, hung around like a whipped cur, hoping Ripper would change his mind?

He glanced at the snow-globe. Spike was leaning on the porch rail, smoking: the picture of dejection. Graham was sitting slumped on the steps. Neither of them was speaking.

Ethan looked away, and began nudging some of the pilfered items around the top of the communion table. “At least we know to whom most of these things belong. The cigar stub is from his father, and the dress on the line from which we cut this scrap of material is his mother’s. The fur on the barbed wire fence is from his favourite mutt. I heard someone call it ‘Jess.’” He picked up some longer, coarser hairs. “The horses’ names are Suzie and Lefty. As for this ribbon … I’m not sure.”

Maggie came over to take a look. “The father mentioned a niece, Rebecca. It’s probably hers, but as we haven’t seen any sign of her, I shan’t bother about her just yet. In fact, I think I might try the dog next. I’m rather fond of dogs – as experimental models, that is. It’s quite possible that I’m simply not practised enough in this … discipline to influence a vampire. But a dog has a fairly simple brain. It should be easy to subvert.”

She took the tangle of black and white fur, and went through the ritual once more, this time with the name of the dog written on the paper instead of the vampire’s.

“Oh Great Eris, Goddess of Discord. Sow your seed between Riley Finn and the canine, Jess. May she bite his hand, and feel his boot.”

She placed a bell-jar over a toy German Shepherd dog, and, when the ashes cooled, tipped some of them inside. Before the stopper was in place, a small black-and-white border collie was turning in circles inside the jar, as though it were chasing its tail.

As Maggie poured the remaining ashes over the miniature Riley Finn, he raised his rifle, and fired it at the opening.

“What the –?” Maggie jumped back, rubbing her arm, then jammed the stopper back in place.

The soldier dropped his weapon, and crouched down, covering his head, as a rattle of tiny pellets ricocheted around the jar. 

“My goodness.” Maggie stared at her little soldier. “I didn’t realise the weapons they issued with these toys actually worked.”

“Indeed …” Ethan refrained from mentioning that he hadn’t noticed goodness being one of her qualities.

Maggie examined the spot on her arm where she’d been hit. Evidently satisfied that the injury did not require treatment, she straightened her collar. “Well, that’s the dog taken care of. Very good. Now for the horses.”

Ethan heard a tap-tap-tapping, and turned to see GI Joe banging on the glass walls of the bell jar with his impotent fists. The figure punched the glass, and punched it again, yelling, “No! No! No!”

It went on punching till its tiny knuckles bled.

~~


	6. Loss of Perspective

When Spike went outside, Riley breathed a sigh of relief. He could barely stand to be in the same room as Spike right now, though he had no idea why. Couldn’t relax; couldn’t find anything to say to him. It was like he was suddenly sharing his bed with a stranger.

He managed to get to sleep, but he didn’t sleep well; kept feeling as though there were bits of straw in the bed, or maybe some kind of bedbugs biting him, and when Spike came in and lay down beside him again, Riley woke up for good and all.

So he waited and watched for the cracks in the shutters to appear. As soon as it was getting light, he slid out of bed, pulled on the clothes that were lying at the foot of the bed, and went out, deciding to walk the path down by the river.

It was cold. It was summer, and he didn’t usually feel the cold, so why was he shivering? His hands were so cold that the ring – Spike’s ring – was close to slipping off his finger.

What the hell. The thing didn’t seem to be working any more, not that he especially wanted it to. He took it off, and put it in his pocket for safe-keeping.

He stood watching the water; the curls and eddies near the edge; the way leaves and twigs got trapped near the banks, then more fragments of organic material – seed pods, small animal bones, and other debris – would start to accumulate around them: get tangled with them for a little while, until a stronger current would wash the whole raft free, and sweep it away downstream.

For a moment, Riley wished that something would just sweep him away somewhere. Then he shook his head at himself, and turned for home. When he got back to the yard, he slipped quietly into the stables, as he often did when he felt in need of comfort.

The horses were still asleep, but Jess lifted her head, and stared at him with her enigmatic wall eyes. The fur around her neck stood out straight; her lips drew back from her teeth, and Riley heard a rumble in her throat.

He frowned, and went towards her slowly, with his hand out. “Hey Jess, it’s me. What’s wrong?”

The growl subsided. Jess sat up, cocked her head, and sniffed his hand, but then she bared her teeth, the warning growl starting up again. She settled back on her haunches, as if preparing to launch herself at him.

“No!” Riley said sharply, standing up, out of easy range of her teeth. “Down!”

Jess flattened her ears, and cowered away from him, almost rolling onto her side, and God, how he hated it when dogs did that. He felt a primal urge to aim a kick at the dog’s belly. He turned on his heel and left.

It was lighter now. His dad, who was just on his way to the house, had already seen him, or else he might have ducked back inside the stable.

Instead he said, “Hey, Dad.”

Josh Finn treated him to his patented piercing glare. “You’re up at the crack of what-the-hell-am-I-doing-out-of-bed.”

“I know. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Not surprised.” Josh scratched behind his ear. “You haven’t been very sociable these last couple days.”

Before Riley could respond, the question came like a whiplash, “What’s wrong with you, Boy?”

Riley flinched, and turned away. “Don’t know. I’m … not feeling too good. Things are weird. Don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it’s something. I guess it’ll pass.”

Josh nodded. “At least you’re not the last to know, like I was. When I came back – left the army – I went a bit off track. Not right away, mind. At first, it felt like I was on leave, but when it sunk in … took a while to settle back. Everything seemed too small around here. Maybe your friend’s stirred up some memories, made you hanker after –”

“No, I’ve thought of that. It’s not that. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like … everything seems unreal, you know? Like we’re all just puppets, or –”

“Everything seems unreal to you does it?” Josh snorted. “Let me tell you something. It seems like that to me too. I’ve got a son who’s an ex-demon-fighter, and a son-in-law that’s a vampire. I don’t owe any man a cent, and I wake up every morning next to the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on, and she’s my wife. I’ll take my unreality any day, and be thankful for it. True, my other son’s married to a Fundie, but we can’t have everything.”

Riley laughed. “I guess you’re right.” He patted Josh on the arm. “Thanks, Dad. I think I needed things putting into perspective.”

“Glad to oblige.” Josh put his hands in his pockets. “Coming in for some coffee?”

Riley thought about it, then waved in the direction of the cabin. “No, thanks. I think I’ll …”

“Don’t let me stop you.” His dad turned and went into the house.

~~


	7. False Dawn

When Spike woke up, Riley was gone: avoiding him again.

It was just getting light, so he went to the main house. He wasn’t really expecting anyone to be about, but when he walked into the kitchen, Graham was sitting at the table over a coffee.

Spike began to back out, but Graham looked up and saw him.

“Why don’t you join me?”

Spike shook his head. “It’s okay, I’ll leave you be.”

“C’mon Spike. I know we got off to a bad start –”

“Could have been worse.” Spike sat down at the table with him. After all, unlike some of his Initiative comrades, Graham hadn’t actively abused him. 

Graham stood up. “Coffee?”

It seemed odd for the interloper to be offering the drinks, but odd seemed to be the order of things these days. “Yeah, why not?” Spike shrugged. “Three sugars, loads of milk.”

Graham made it, and set it down in front of him.

“Thanks.”

Graham sat down again, and spread his hands on the table. “So. What’s up with Riley?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “You tell me. Seemed to start about the time you got here.”

Graham sighed. “I was hoping you weren’t gonna say that.”

“Right …” Spike took a slurp of coffee. “So have you figured out any more about this dire warning you had to give Riley?”

Clearly frustrated, Graham clenched a fist. “Not so much. Few things have come back to me though. It all started when I got some leave – went back to Sunnydale to see a girl I met there. That’s when I ran into Professor Walsh.”

Spike took a sharp breath. “I thought she was locked up. Angleman said –”

“She was. What she told me was, they’d realised it was all a big mistake – that she wasn’t a danger to anyone – so they released her. Then she said she wanted to see Riley. To apologise for how she treated him.”

“And you believed her,” Spike said flatly. “Gave her his address, did you?”

“No. I knew something wasn’t right, so I lied. Told her I thought he lived in Idaho. But she was sure it was Iowa or Ohio. Then she spoke to someone on her cell-phone. Mentioned a hellmouth. After that, I don’t remember anything until someone pushed me out of a car in Cleveland. I just felt sure I had to find Riley, and warn him about something. Maybe it was about Professor Walsh.”

“So you came all the way here from Cleveland? On foot?”

“I hitched some of the way.”

“How’d you find the place?”

Graham shook his head. “I don’t really know. Just following my instincts.”

“Pretty powerful instincts if you ask me,” Spike said. “Sounds more like Professor Walsh brain-washed you. Made you tap into your subconscious memory to find him, so she could follow you here.”

“I don’t remember being brain-washed.” Graham looked up, and saw Spike’s expression. “Oh. Right.”

“She probably tagged you with some kind of tracking device. And I think I know why.”

“Yeah?” Graham patted himself down, searched his pockets, and felt behind his ears, apparently looking for bugs. “But why would she do all that?”

“The chip she put in my head – I had it taken out. Angleman did it. I guess the toe-rag must have run back and grassed about it to Mother – that’s what you lot called her, isn’t it?”

Graham looked embarrassed. “Yeah, that was her call sign.”

“She must have wanted the chip back. I kept it on my bedside table, but last night it was gone, and I’m willing to bet she’s got it. Probably gonna try and get back into her old line of work, or, if she’s pissed off enough with her own government, she’ll sell it to the highest bidder.” 

“But how did she get hold of it?”

“Bitch must have been in our cabin, some time yesterday.”

“But wait a minute.” Graham scratched his head. “I didn’t get here till last night. She must have taken it before then, or one of us would have seen her snooping around.”

Spike shook his head. “Finn’s are well known in this parish. Once you’d led her to Huxley, she could have found this place just by asking around, or looking in the phone book. Probably snuck in during the afternoon, when everyone was at work.”

“So this is all down to me.” Graham ran a hand through his hair. “I’m real sorry if I’ve led her here. Riley won’t be happy about this.”

“Riley won’t find out,” Spike said sharply. “We’re not going to tell him.”

Graham put his mug down carefully. “Why the hell not, man?”

“Because … something’s already thrown a spanner in the works. Don’t know what. Don’t think it was you – not really. Let her take the damn chip, and bugger off, so long as she doesn’t try and put it back in my cranium. Best if Riley never finds out she was here. I don’t want him going on some wild goose-chase after her.”

“I don’t think Riley’s the type to want revenge.”

Spike stirred his coffee, then stared at the spoon; at his distorted reflection in the curved surface. “That would be the least of my worries.”

“Well, if you’re right – if I was just some kind of tracker dog – then I don’t really have any warning to give Riley. There’s no reason for me to stay here. I’d better call in, and set out today. Try and get back to base, before they decide to court martial me.”

Spike felt a surge of relief. Not that Graham had put a foot wrong since he got here, but things would be easier to sort out once he was gone. “What are you gonna tell ’em?”

“I’ll tell them Professor Walsh kidnapped me, and then dropped me in Cleveland. It’s the truth. If she’s escaped, someone must know about it. I won’t tell them I came here, if you’d rather I didn’t.”

“Thanks. Probably best not.” Spike stuck a hand in his back pocket. “If you need money –”

“No, I’ll be able to access my bank account somehow. If I can’t, I’ll get my folks to wire me some dough. I’ll get going, just as soon as I’ve said goodbye to Riley and his folks.”

Josh came in. “Leaving already?”

“Gotta get back to base.”

“Well, don’t forget, you’re welcome to come by any time. Stay a while, if you want. Any friend of Riley’s –”

Graham nodded. “Thanks Mr Finn. I won’t forget. You’ve been very hospitable.”

“Some of us have,” Josh grumbled, as he made coffee. “And some of us have been just plain peculiar.” 

~~

Maggie narrowed her eyes. “I knew Graham was keeping something from me.”

She took a deep breath in through her nose; Ethan half-expected flames and smoke to belch forth when she breathed out again.

“But no matter.” Maggie picked an imaginary speck of dust from her blouse. “This is good. Very good. The vampire thinks it knows what’s going on, but it’s completely wrong. A little knowledge is such a dangerous thing, is it not?”   
“How very true.” Ethan sincerely hoped Maggie didn’t realise that it was she who was in his thoughts.

“Apart from this anomalous result –” she indicated the toy vampire leaning stiffly in its bell-jar: “– everything is going according to plan.” 

~~

When Graham told Riley he was leaving, his old comrade didn’t even think to offer him a lift into town; barely acknowledged his departure; that was probably just as well, because he wasn’t gone for very long.

He set off down the track towards the main road, but before he got there, he was once again surrounded by a howling blizzard. He couldn’t seem to take more than a few steps forward before he came up against what felt like a solid wall.

It was making him crazy, because he could see blue sky up above him; hell, he could tell that just a few yards up the track, the sun was blazing down on a calm summer day. But where he stood, he was in the centre of a snowstorm, and the only way he could move freely, was back the way he’d come.

Graham stopped, and sat down on the ground. What was happening to him? Had Professor Walsh done something to his brain? He wouldn’t put it past her. Or was he going crazy all by himself?

He didn’t know which would be worse.

He went back to the house, and set out in a different direction, but the same thing happened. He spent half the day trying different routes, but each time, he was either forced back, or somehow arrived back without even knowing how it had happened.

It scared him, badly.

So he did the only thing a man could do. He pretended he’d made a mistake about his leave dates, and could stay a few more days.

Not like he had a choice about it. 

~~


	8. Trying

Spike spent the morning lurking around near the house.

Since he’d had the Gem of Amara, he’d taken to going about the farm with Riley, helping out where he could. But he didn’t feel like doing that right now, and anyway, he knew Riley wouldn’t want him along.

At around lunchtime, he found himself hanging over the fence at the edge of the paddock, feeding Suzie and Lefty some pony treats he’d picked up from the tack room. He petted The Lieutenant’s nose. “What’s wrong with him?” he said, to the big horse. “You’ve known him longer than I have. Any thoughts?”

Lefty made a little nickering noise.

“Thanks for your input.” Spike nodded sagely. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

All this had started when they’d taken that ride. What had they done? They’d ended up at that spot down by the river; they’d drunk wine, eaten strawberries, and had sex; and the sex had been weird.

Could there have been something in the wine, or the strawberries? But if there was, who could have put it there? Maggie Walsh? How would she have done it, and why? And if someone had drugged them, wouldn’t the effects have worn off by now? 

Spike was coming to the unhappy conclusion that Maggie Walsh wasn’t solely responsible for this situation; that it was something about him that was rubbing Riley up the wrong way.

Perhaps Riley was just plain bored with him – had fallen out of love with him – and didn’t know how to tell him to leave. Come to think of it, Riley would have a hard time breaking up with him, what with his parents and Al being so soft on him.

He looked up, and saw Riley striding across the field towards the house. Yet again, Riley didn’t seem to have noticed him, or else just wasn’t acknowledging him.

Maybe the horses were in his line of sight. Yeah … that must be it.

As Riley got nearer, Suzie tossed her head, and galloped off to the far side of the field, as far away from Riley as it was possible for her to get. Once there, she pressed against the fence, as though even now she hadn’t put enough distance between them for her liking.

The Lieutenant lifted his head and sniffed the air, then he took off after her across the paddock, his tail high. He turned, and stood facing Riley, as if defending Suzie from him.

Riley whacked a stick he was carrying against his leg. “Spike.” He brushed past him, towards the house.

Spike followed him. He almost had to run to keep up, then he decided enough was enough. He ducked around Riley and stopped on the path in front of him, blocking his way.

Riley came to a halt, and looked at him, frowning; biting his lower lip. “What?”

Spike squinted at Riley. He felt his mouth trying to form words, but he couldn’t decide what they should be.

Riley shook his head, and pushed past him, leaving Spike to tag along with him into the yard.

Jess was sitting on the porch, but instead of running to greet Riley, she put her head down on her nose, as if trying not to be noticed, and when they went up the porch steps, she cowered away from Riley.

Riley glowered at her; Jess got up, and pressed against Spike’s leg.

Spike was starting to know how she felt. But it was weird. Horses – well they could be moody, but dogs didn’t just change their allegiances at the drop of a hat. Something was very wrong.

Spike went down on one knee, ruffled Jess’s ear, and said quietly, “Never mind him, Jess. He’s just … well I don’t know what’s the matter. Let’s hope it’s just a phase, yeah?”

Riley glared at them, as though they were hatching a plot against him. “What’s wrong with everyone today?” 

“Nothin’,” Spike shot back. “Everything’s peachy.”

That was when a worried-looking Graham wandered into the yard.

“You’re still here,” Riley said, a note of accusation in his voice.

“Yeah, I … realised yesterday that I got the dates wrong.” Graham’s eyes flicked nervously to Spike. “I still have a couple days leave. Okay if I –”

“Like I care.” Riley pushed on through the screen door, into the house.

Spike and Graham stared at each other for a moment, then Spike clenched his jaw, turned and swung across yard and into the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

~~

What the bloody hell was wrong with Riley? He was behaving like … well, like a complete bastard. Like he was on drugs, or he’d had a personality transplant.

Spike needed someone to talk to. He immediately thought of Sarah, but it wouldn’t be right to talk to Riley’s mum about him: not like that. He picked up the phone, and called Angel Investigations, but just as someone picked up, Spike remembered that Wesley was away, in some alternate dimension.

Possibly, so was Riley Finn. 

A clipped, efficient voice said: “Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless. How may I direct your call?”

“Harm?” Spike stared at the phone. “You’ve got that off pat.”

“Thank you, Spikey!” Harmony’s voice softened to its usual marshmallow consistency.

Spike felt his defences start to crumble, but he tried not to let his voice waver. “So … how are things with you?”

“Oh … you know … But what about you Spike? Things must be pretty crappy if you want to talk to me, or you must be really bored, or something.”

She wasn’t wrong. Spike swallowed his pride. “It’s really weird, Harm. It’s Riley. He’s … well he’s different. Cold. And he’s been really tetchy. I can’t seem to say anything right.”

“Cold and tetchy, huh? Sounds like he’s turning into you.”

Spike snorted. “Yeah, well.” She wasn’t wrong there either. “But it’s not like him, Harm. And it’s not just with me. He’s been weird with his mate who showed up, and snotty with his mum and dad. It’s like he’s got the PMT from hell. The horses won’t go near him. And he loves those horses – or he did. Even his dog seems scared of him.”

“Hmm. That sounds like it could be magic.” 

Spike shook his head. “Just because you’re reading about it, doesn’t mean everything that happens is somehow related.”

“No, but listen. They say that sometimes animals can tell if you’re under some kind of spell. They sense the change in your aura, or something. Maybe someone’s put a spell on Riley.”

Maggie Walsh! But no … magic wasn’t the Professor’s modus operandus. Graham? Didn’t seem like he had the brains for it. Still, it was something to think about. Perhaps there was more behind those distant blue eyes than … well, met the eye.

“Thanks Harm. I’ll take it under consideration. Ask Wes to give me a call when he gets back, yeah?”

Harmony sighed. “Sure, Spike.”

She put the phone down, leaving Spike feeling somewhat guilty, as she often did.

Though he was usually inclined to dismiss any idea coming from Harmony, Spike wondered whether she could be on to something with the magic angle ... But it was probably something more mundane. Maggie Walsh might have kidnapped Riley, messed with his head, then let him go, like she had Graham.

But when could this have happened? 

When the men came in from work that afternoon, Spike called out, “Hey, Todd.”

Todd ambled over. “Hey there, Spike.”

Spike scratched his neck. “Might seem like a daft question, but does Riley seem okay to you?”

Todd echoed Spike’s movement. “Maybe a little … I dunno, distracted? Like he’s somewhere else?” Todd grinned. “I assumed he was just thinking about you.”

Spike tried to smile. “Don’t think so somehow. But you haven’t noticed him … goin’ missing? I mean, physically? Disappearing off somewhere, and then not remembering where he’s been?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” Todd said guardedly.

“Just … keep an eye on him will you? And let me know if you see him talking to any strangers.”

Todd’s eyebrows rose.

“Most particularly, an older woman,” Spike clarified. “Pointy face, haggard-looking. Like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Todd spluttered. “You’re not overly keen on this female, are you?”

Spike remained grim. “No, I’m not.” 

“But what’s this about? She doesn’t sound like Riley’s type, even when he –” Todd hour-glassed the air with his hands: “– you know.”

“It’s not like that. She’s … it’s someone from his past, alright? A higher-ranking officer, from when he was in the military. And they didn’t part on good terms.”

Todd frowned. “But she can’t do him any harm, can she? Not now?”

“Don’t you believe it.” Spike looked seriously at Todd. “Will you do this for me?”

“Sure.” Todd dropped his gaze. “I don’t like the idea of spying on him, but … you wouldn’t ask me if it weren’t important.” He took a deep breath. “So ... what do you want me to do, if I see her?”

“Just watch her. See where she goes. Tell me straight away.”

“Just one problem, Spike. I don’t have a mobile phone. Don’t hold with ’em.”

“Well, get word to me as soon as you can. Public phone’ll do.” Spike scribbled down his mobile number, and gave it to Todd. “And don’t let her take Riley anywhere.”

Now Todd looked worried. “He’s a grown man Spike. She can’t take him anywhere he don’t want to go.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Spike scratched at his ribs. “You’d be surprised at what she’s capable of.” 

“If you say so,” Todd said. “I’ll do what I can, bar knocking him down, or hitting a woman.”

Spike nodded. “Thanks Todd.”

Riley strode past them, looking neither left nor right.

~~

“Riley!”

But Riley carried on as though he hadn’t heard Spike, or even seen him.

Perhaps he’d been reading too much into all of this. Perhaps there was a simple reason behind it. “Ri– Oh, fuck it.”

Spike loped after Riley, and blocked his path for the second time that day.

Riley looked at him in surprise. He genuinely hadn’t heard Spike calling his name.

Spike spoke softly, so that Todd wouldn’t hear what he had to say. “Riley, what’s wrong with you … with us? Is it me?” Spike’s heart was in his mouth, but he managed to keep his voice steady. “Are we … is it done? Is this over now? Is that what this is about?”

Riley stared at him, his jaw working. He swatted at his face – though there was nothing there that Spike could see – and then he swallowed. “I … I hope not. I don’t know. I feel like I’m losing myself. Losing sight of everything that’s important, and I don’t know why. Please, Spike – don’t give up on me.”

Spike frowned. “So … we might be over, but you want me to stay around … wait and see? Wait until you dump me?” He bit at a quick on his thumb. “Hardly fair, is it?”

Riley’s face contorted. He stared at Spike as if he were trying to will himself to be different. He gripped Spike by the upper arm, and said urgently: “Don’t give up. This isn’t … it isn’t me. I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but it isn’t me. You’ve got to –”

Then it was as though someone had flipped a switch; Riley’s expression closed off again. He shook his head, and went on his way without another word.

~~

The soldier saw the stopper coming down; cutting off his escape route once again. He threw his grappling iron one last time, but it hit the stopper and fell back. He had to jump out of the way.

He was covered in ashes; always more ashes. He sat down and put his head in his hands, and began to cry.

In a jar nearby, a little girl screamed, and hammered on the glass.

Ethan was beginning to know how she felt. This time, he’d managed to get to the far end of the church unobserved, but the door refused to open.

“I know you’re trying to get away,” Maggie said. “It won’t work you know.”

Ethan sighed. “I don’t know why you want me to stay. You seem to be doing fine on your own.”

Maggie turned and looked at him, with her head on one side. “A more interesting question, to my mind, is why you are so keen to leave. I thought you needed my help with your revenge on this Giles person?”

“Not need, exactly,” Ethan said carefully.

The balance of power in their relationship had already swung too far in her favour for his liking, and his natural powers seemed to be taking a very long time to return. Perhaps the procedures in Nevada had stripped them away for good. He shuddered, remembering. “It’s just so cold and uncomfortable here. Why don’t I go and get a motel in town – you can call me if you find you need –”

“No. You will remain here, where I can keep an eye on you. I don’t want you running around and giving away our location to the authorities – or anyone else for that matter.”

“I don’t want to get locked up again any more than you do.” 

“If you argue with me, I can make things quite unpleasant for you.” Maggie made a grasping motion with her right hand and Ethan, in a world of pain, dropped to his knees, clutching his genitals.

“And now, I think it’s time to go to the heart of the matter.” Maggie relaxed her hand. “Riley’s most important connection.”

Ethan swallowed, and managed to gasp, “And that … would be?”

Maggie tutted. “Why, his mother, of course.”

~~


	9. Escalation

Around teatime, Spike went into the kitchen and found Sarah sitting at the table, intensely occupied: carving someone’s name with a penknife. He looked over her shoulder; she was carving the ‘I’ in Riley’s name.

Sarah looked up, and cast him a worried glance.

Spike sat down opposite her. “You’ve noticed it too.”

She nodded slightly.

“What is it? What’s wrong with him? Do you think it’s me?”

“Could be,” Sarah said loudly, though she was shaking her head. “Guess he’s just not feeling himself. Maybe he’s coming down with something. Good thing Rebecca isn’t coming this weekend.”

Spike studied her face. “That so?”

“She called earlier. Said she had some other things to do. You know how it is with kids.”

Spike did indeed know how it was: at least with Al. She’d never miss a weekend at the farm, if she could help it. He frowned.

“Probably for the best ...” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “As Riley’s out of sorts –” 

“I think it might be something to do with his old Professor. The one who brain-washed him, and put a chip in my head. But –”

“Be careful,” Sarah said quietly, almost without moving her lips. “We’re being watched.” 

Spike mouthed back: “Graham?”

“Maybe. I think Riley’s under some influence.”

Spike cocked his head. “Magic?”

She nodded.

He pointed at her. “Wicca?”

She shook her head. “Not me. Had a friend in college who was into that. She thought I had some latent talent. I never thought much of it – didn’t believe it really – but there were certain times … when I’d taken certain substances.” She smirked. “Those times, I used to think I could see people’s auras. And I’m betting Riley’s isn’t very pretty right now.”

Spike nodded, considering. Riley’s mum had come to the same conclusion as Harmony; maybe they were right. Now he thought about it, the magical explanation fit just as well as the scientific one. Riley – and Graham, too – could have been be-spelled as easily as brain-washed: though surely not by Professor Walsh.

“Anyways, I’d best get this done.” Sarah picked up the penknife again.

“Can’t do any harm.” Spike rose from his seat. “Tea?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Spike went to put the kettle on.

Then there were boots in the hall, and Riley came in. Spike stepped in front of him, giving Sarah enough time to sweep a teacloth over her work.

But the penknife was still in her hand.

“What are you doing?” Riley’s voice was sharp and suspicious.

Sarah looked up at him. “Just looking for a lost soul.”

Riley snatched the cloth away, and stood for a moment, taking in what he saw. “What the hell nonsense is this? I’m not lost. I’m right here.”

He tried to grab the knife from Sarah’s hand, and suddenly an ugly gash split his palm. Blood dripped into the freshly-carved letters, ‘RIL.’

Sarah dropped the knife, and took Riley’s hand in hers, applying pressure. “Spike, get me a clean bandage. In that drawer –”

“Jeez! Will you stop fussing?” Riley tried to pull his hand away.

Sarah held on. “Don’t be silly. You need to stop the bleeding.” With one hand, she reached for the bandage Spike was holding out.

“Leave me alone!” Riley jerked his hand free. “You’re not my m–” He frowned.

Sarah made a grab for his wrist, and Riley back-handed her across the face. His hand was still moving when Josh came through the door.

Everyone froze. Then Josh went for his son. Spike got between them, and took a punch in the face meant for Riley. The three of them grappled.

“Hey! That’s enough!” Sarah banged her fist on the table.

They all stopped, and stared at her. A bruise was blooming on her right cheek; blood trickled from her lip. 

Riley dropped his hands, and allowed himself to be half-hustled, half-dragged outside, all the time staring at Sarah over Spike and Josh’s shoulders.

~~

“Good …” Maggie Walsh smiled coldly. “And now, I think it’s time to go to the heart of the matter. Riley’s most important connection.”

Ethan frowned. “And what would that be?”

Maggie tutted. “Why, his mother, of course.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Naturally.”

~~

Once they were outside, Josh pushed Riley against the side of the house. Their faces were inches apart. “What’s gotten into you, Boy?”

“Don’t call me ‘Boy.’ I’m a man, same as you. I’ve fought and killed. I’m not a kid.”

“No – you’re not a kid. If you were, there might be some excuse for it, but there ain’t.” There was steely determination in Josh’s voice. “Killing doesn’t make you a man. Neither does hitting a woman, and I’m telling you straight, so there’ll be no misunderstanding. Don’t ever raise your hand to your mother again. She never did to you.” 

Josh let go of his son, and turned to go back inside. “Do anything like it again, you’re out.”

Riley slumped. He looked down at his bloodied hand: the one he’d used to strike Sarah. Then he pushed off the wall, bumped past Spike, and then past Graham, who’d been watching with a stunned, almost hypnotised look on his face.

Spike strode after Riley. He should warn him that something malign might be influencing him, then maybe then he could work out what it might be, and fight it.

“Riley, hold up.”

“What do you want?” Riley lashed out. “Why won’t anyone leave me be?”

“That’s what you want, is it? Everyone to just leave you alone? Not what you said earlier. You asked me not to give up on you – remember? Well, this is me, not giving up. There’s something you need to know. There’s something influencing you – using you.”

“Well, you’d know all about that wouldn’t you?” Riley snapped. “Whoring yourself to me, so I’d rescue you. Leeching off me, and turning my family against me. And now you tell me something’s ‘influencing’ me. What, you can’t take the competition?”

Spike stared at him, open-mouthed. “This, isn’t, you.” He said it as much to himself as to Riley.

Riley’s mouth twisted. “It is me,” he said, in a strangled voice. “Better get used to it. Can’t help what I am.” He poked Spike in the chest.

Spike didn’t react.

He poked harder, and this time, Spike pushed back. Then Riley grabbed him by the upper arm, and dragged him towards the barn.

Spike glanced behind him. Yes, Graham was still staring at them.

Then Spike didn’t have time to think about it any more.

~~


	10. Ethan's Dilemma

Professor Walsh rubbed her hands together. “Well, this is very good. I’ve managed to turn Riley and his father against each other, without even using the cigar stub. Riley is beginning to realise how misguided he’s been … how he’s been corrupted. Who his real family is.” She stared intently at the proceedings in the snow-globe. “Come on, Riley. Come to Mother.”

Ethan’s throat was dry, and his balls were still painful from the punishment he earned for trying to escape. He could hear his own breathing, loud, in the empty space. The scene inside the snow globe seemed to expand to fill the whole of his vision. 

“Yes, use that vampire slut all you want.” Maggie’s eyes were cruel with lust. “Use it, and then leave it behind.”

“Fight back damn you!” Riley Finn yelled. He shoved Spike down over a bale. “Why won’t you fight me?” 

Reception in the chapel was good today. Watching in full colour, and listening in surround-sound, while Spike was stripped of half his clothes, and all his dignity, Ethan felt a kind of dizziness come over him.

“Is this how you like it, Vampire? Is it?”

Spike must be at least as strong as Riley Finn, and a more experienced fighter; so why was he letting Riley do these things to him?

Ethan shook his head at himself. He knew why. In his mind’s eye, he could still see Ripper, standing over him in one of the stables on his father’s estate: a riding crop in one hand, and scorn on his tongue.

When it was over, Riley left Spike bloody and unsatisfied among the hay bales. He brushed past Graham, who was standing, transfixed, in the middle of the yard, with a grandstand view.

After a moment or two, Spike stood, and gingerly pulled up and fastened his jeans. He found the remains of his tee-shirt, and dragged it over his head, wincing as he did so. Then he came out of the barn, towards Graham.

When he drew level, he looked Graham in the eye. “Seen enough?”

Ethan gasped; whoever they’d been intended for, the words certainly found their mark in his heart. 

~~

Ethan _had_ seen enough; he’d also heard about as much as he could stomach of Maggie Walsh’s narrow-minded drivel. He didn’t remember signing up for the moral majority.

Later that evening, when Maggie had finished yet another of her spiteful castings, and Ethan’s bollocks had recovered, he got up the nerve to make further enquiries about her plans.

“You never mentioned what you were intending to do with this Finn chap, once you’ve isolated him from his family.” Ethan was trying to sound casual, but he feared he wasn’t very convincing.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I have a use for him.”

Ethan’s blood ran cold as he contemplated the possibilities. Was she intending to enslave him? She certainly enjoyed having a bloke by the balls, and there was a definite sexual undercurrent whenever she spoke of Riley Finn.

But where did the Orb fit in? When she’d heard that a Polgara demon’s essence – its soul, if you will – was trapped within, she’d been very keen to obtain it. Granted, it was rather impressive, but a little over the top for a paperweight. 

But it was obvious, wasn’t it? The good professor must be taking another crack at starting a human-demon hybrid army – only, this time, she was using her idiosyncratic version of magic, rather than science. X plus Y, and all of a sudden someone’s minus one soul. Sever Riley’s connections to those he loved, and you were more than half way there. Riley Finn’s soul was looking less securely attached to his body with every passing hour, and quite soon there’d be plenty of room for a demon to take up residence. That was why she’d spent one of their rare trips into Huxley, researching restoration rituals on the internet.

She was going to try to replace Riley’s soul with essence of Polgara.

She was, of course, quite mad.

Her castings had been good enough to set the cat amongst the pigeons, but – because of her inexperience, and her imperfect knowledge of the subjects – not everything had gone quite to plan. Ethan didn’t like to contemplate the result, if she were to perform a restoration ritual, and he didn’t want to be around to see it.

His stub of a conscience joined forces with his heart, to tell him that she must be stopped. He’d been sure of that when he’d told Giles about 314, knowing that his old comrade had the will and the means – a Slayer – to do something about it. 

But Giles was many miles from here, and Ethan was alone. With his power drained, did he have the resources to try and stop her?

What were the alternatives?

He glanced towards the south transept, where they’d set up their makeshift kitchen, and – in a spectacularly conspicuous non-sequitur – he said, “Oh dear. We seem to be running low on coffee.”

“What?” Maggie glared at him.

“We’re low on coffee. Running out of milk and sugar, too. Shall I take a trip into town, and pick up some supplies?”

Maggie looked suspicious. Still … she couldn’t deny that, with all these late nights, they needed coffee. If she said yes, he could default to his usual option – scarper, and leave someone else to clear up the mess. He might even go for help, if he was feeling especially public-spirited. And if she said ‘no’ –

“No. You stay here and keep an eye on things. Take note of any significant events. I’ll go into Huxley for the essentials. I have some things I need to check up on while I’m there.”

“Oh, alright then.”

Ethan had allowed his disappointment to show; he saw a knowing smile flicker across Maggie Walsh’s face as she collected her bag, and left.

When he heard the car depart, Ethan didn’t even bother trying the door, but turned to look at the collection of specimens: the soldier, now sitting dejected on the ground, his weapons and grappling iron discarded, all escape attempts having failed; the dog, still circling pointlessly; sometimes it changed direction, but always, and always, it chased its tail.

The horses stood swaying from side to side in their jar, without sufficient room to turn, or to move forward or back. And now, in yet another jar, a woman, in a summer dress of white cheesecloth with blue embroidery, was sitting on the ground: not in despair, but cross-legged, in a pose of patient meditation.

Dracula was still just a toy, leaning against the glass. . Ethan knew well enough that vampires could love; perhaps this particular vampire’s love was too strong for Maggie to break.

In the smallest jar was Maggie’s latest captive: a little girl. Since Maggie had trapped her there, she had been persistently kicking the glass, and thumping it with her fists, and – when she ran out of energy – just glaring at her captors.

This was chaos, of a kind, Ethan supposed, but not a kind he found amusing.

He went to the jar containing the woman – Riley’s mother – and tried to simply lift the bell-jar by hand. It wouldn’t budge. Sealed in place by magic – by magic it would have to be removed. 

Ethan closed his eyes and pressed the tips of his fingers together, summoning as much power as he thought he had. He took a few breaths, then pointed his fingers at the jar. “Surge! Surge! Surge!”

The woman looked up. Apart from that, nothing happened. 

He tried once more to lift the jar with his hands, but the magical seal was just as strong as before.

He rested for a few moments, then tried the same procedure, but saying this time: “Manumitte! Manumitte! Manumitte!”

He could have sworn the jar stirred a little, as if discontented, but when he tried to move it, he met as little success as before, and his efforts had left him feeling tired. Perhaps he was setting his sights too high.

When he’d rested for a while, and regained some strength, he concentrated his efforts on the smallest jar – the one containing the little girl.

“Manumitte! Manumitte! Manumitte!”

The jar rattled, then rose a millimetre or two into the air, and the clever girl swiftly jammed her foot under the edge, and straightway fell on her side: a plastic doll once more.

Ethan felt a small surge of triumph. The girl had escaped Maggie’s influence – for now. 

But he was drained. There was no way he’d be able to raise a flag, let alone any more of the jars. All he could do was play for time, and hope that either his magical energies would return, or that another opportunity to follow the girl’s example would present itself.

He looked into the snow-globe. It was tuned in on Graham, so it could only show his immediate surroundings. Graham was sitting alone on the porch, with his head in his hands.

Then Spike came out of the main house. His hair was wet; he must have just taken a shower. A bruise was blossoming on his cheek from the punch Josh had thrown, but Ethan knew there were other injuries he couldn’t see.

Sarah Finn came out after Spike, and put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened, Spike?”

“Nothin’ …” Spike shrugged her hand off. “Had a bit of a punch-up, is all. Just thought I’d get cleaned up.”

Sarah clearly realised there was something Spike wasn’t telling her. “Why don’t you spend the night here, Spike?” 

“Why would I do that? Got a perfectly good bed in the cabin.”

“When I get my hands on that son of mine, I’m going to –”

“Don’t be angry with him.” Spike put a hand on her arm. “Not his fault, remember?”

Sarah looked puzzled. “Why isn’t it –”

“Anyway, he’ll have cooled down by tonight,” Spike interrupted her. “I’ll be fine.”

Spike didn’t sound terribly convinced of that. He winced again as he went down the steps, and walked stiffly across the yard to the cabin.

“I am so sorry,” Ethan said, to the chapel’s unforgiving stones.

If he’d realised what a dreadful genie he’d be letting out of the bottle when he’d taught Maggie how to use her power, he wouldn’t have stuck around to help her with her crusade. As it was, he couldn’t help feeling he bore some of the blame for Spike’s horrible situation.

But his own horrible situation was also on his mind. Just on the off-chance that the closure spell had worn off, he went and tried the door of the chapel, but – predictably – found it magically sealed shut. He, too, was trapped. Maggie was taking no chances. 

Heedless of her imprecation to keep watch, Ethan lay down on a pallet and fell into an exhausted sleep.

~~


	11. Leaving

In the shower, Spike got himself off with swift, determined strokes, and washed away the blood and spunk together. He kept telling himself what he’d told Sarah – it wasn’t Riley’s fault. But that night, when he saw Riley taking a bedroll to the barn, he didn’t feel any desire to persuade him to do otherwise.

In any case, it gave him the chance to stay up until the small hours trying to research magical influences online. But his Google-fu must have been weak because everything he found had obviously been made up by unbalanced loners, most of whom couldn’t spell ‘abracadabra’; there was nothing real or useful.

He spent a couple of restless hours in a bed that was too large, and by morning he had worked himself up to acting on the decision he’d made yesterday. He’d once told Riley he could do him any way he wanted; however rough he wanted; that anything was better than nothing at all. But it wasn’t Riley doing this. Maggie Walsh had shafted him; again, and most likely she’d enjoyed every minute.

So Spike got up and packed an overnight bag with some essentials – a few clothes, a flask of blood from the fridge, his mobile phone and address book. He looked for his wallet but couldn’t find it. Maggie must have taken that too, when she took the chip. Lucky his plastic cards were still in the desk drawer near the computer where he’d left them. He got his last few fags down from the top of the wardrobe and put them in the bag with the rest of his stuff. It was a sorry collection of items; more than he needed to survive.

He took the lighter Riley’d had engraved for him out of his pocket and turned it over in his hand, blinked, then put it back. He considered taking off the ring Riley had given him and leaving it on the dresser; it would be a childish gesture, and it would be a lie, and in his current state of mind, Riley might not even notice. If he did, he probably wouldn’t care. But if he did care, then he’d feel even more cut adrift, and it would do more harm than good.

Spike heaved a sigh as he closed the door to the cabin. He didn’t know when he’d be back. But there was one more thing he had to do before leaving. He went to the kitchen and looked at the half-finished carving of Riley’s name. The knife was still on the table. He picked it up, sat down, and with more efficiency than artistry, added the last two letters of Riley’s name. The knife was still rusted with blood, and there was dried blood in the grooves.

As he stood up to leave, Sarah appeared in the doorway. She stared at his bag.

Spike tried to slip past her, but she stopped him and held onto both his hands. “Spike, you’re not leaving us are you?”

He looked away.

“If anyone’s leaving it should be Riley. I don’t know who he is or who he’s becoming. He’s not my son any more. You’re more like a son to me –”

“Don’t say that.” Spike shrugged out of her grip. “I can’t hear that.”

“But it’s true, Spike. The way he’s treating you, I don’t feel anything for him anymore.”

“Listen to yourself. It’s not you sayin’ that.” Spike lowered his voice. “Remember what we were talking about before?”

“What were we talking about?”

Spike blinked. “You too, eh?” He shook his head. “Sorry Sarah. Gotta go. I’ll see you later okay?”

When he left the house he found Graham standing outside.

“This is all messed up,” Graham said. “This isn’t him.”

Spike frowned at him. “This isn’t who?”

“The way Riley’s been these past couple days. It isn’t him.”

“Really,” Spike said grimly. He went to move past Graham.

Graham caught him by the arm. “You’re leaving?”

“Everyone cares where I lay my head all of a sudden. Yeah, I’m leaving. What’s it to you?”

“I wish I could leave.”

Spike narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I can’t leave.” There were fear and confusion on Graham’s face. “Every time I try to leave I get turned around. I tried walking – kept going into a blizzard and getting lost. Tried getting a lift into town with one of the hands – the vehicle broke down. Wouldn’t move until I got out of it, then it was fine again. I even tried riding out on Suzie, but she wouldn’t even go as far as the gate.”

Spike didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Graham seemed genuinely freaked out, but if he was spying for the enemy it could be an act. If what he said was true, this was bigger than Spike had thought. He was going to need help. 

“You’re off your rocker, mate,” Spike said. He pushed past Graham, went to the Camaro and got in. Hadn’t used it for a while, but it started up okay. He drove off, leaving Graham staring after him. 

As he tore up the track, he saw Josh working on a gate, and out of courtesy, drew up beside him to say goodbye.

“Never figured you for a quitter.” Josh eyed him thoughtfully.

Spike shook his head. “I’m not. Not quitting, I swear it. But Riley doesn’t want me here right now, and I … I can’t think. Not with him bein’ all –” Spike waved a vague hand near his head.

“’Becca decided she was coming after all. She’ll be here soon.” Josh frowned. “She’ll miss you.”

“I’m right sorry about that Josh, but you’ll have to give her my apologies. What I have to do – well, I’m not sure what it is, but I know I can’t do it here.” Spike lowered his voice. “I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, but something’s not been right for a few days. Someone is responsible for this mess. I’m gonna find out who, and I’m gonna deal with them.”

“Going after Big Brother are you?” Josh said dryly. “Good luck with that.”

Spike snorted. “Big Sister, more like.” He drove on.

A little further along the track he saw Todd, doing something to a piece of farm machinery. He pulled up next to him. “Hey, Todd. I need to be in town for a few nights. Know any good places to stay where I won’t get ripped off?”

Todd looked puzzled, but didn’t ask why. “You can stay at my place if you don’t mind the sofa. Plenty room, and it won’t cost a dime.”

That was unexpected. “That’s decent of you mate, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You won’t be. I’m out all day. Evenings, I just read or watch TV. Won’t mind the company.”

Spike thought about it. If he took Todd up on his offer, he’d have another source of information about Riley, or anything else that happened on the farm.

“Thanks, then, if you’re sure.”

Todd reached into his pockets and threw Spike a bunch of keys. 

“Where –?”

“Address is on the tag,” Todd said.

Spike looked at him in amazement. “You put your address on the keys? What if you lose them?”

“Nothin’ much to steal, and this way, I might get ‘em back,” Todd said reasonably.

Spike shook his head and laughed. “Fair enough. Thanks mate. I’ll see you later.”

~~


	12. Alliances

Todd’s place was above a shop where they cut keys, and heeled boots. It had its own door – to one side of the shop window – leading to a narrow staircase: the stair-carpet, worn, but clean.

Spike went up to the landing, and put the key in the lock. Now he was here, he wondered whether he’d be able to enter on an invitation from a remote location, but he didn’t encounter any resistance crossing the threshold, so he went in.

He didn’t really know what he’d expected to find: porn and half-eaten pizzas strewn around, dirty boots, piles of laundry; possibly a half-naked waitress, still sprawled in Todd’s bed, after a night of debauchery. 

But the place was unoccupied and very neat; not quite obsessive-compulsive-neat, but getting close. The furniture was old, but in good condition – antique, some of it. There was a guitar leaning against the wall near the TV.

And there were books: many shelves full of books. Spike scanned them. Mostly classics: Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, The Last of the Mohicans, The Great Gatsby. There was poetry too; even some Shakespeare plays. And it wasn’t just an artful attempt to impress any girls Todd might bring home. All the books looked well-used, and there was one left open, face down on the coffee table: a translation of “Les Miserables.”

Spike felt relaxed for the first time since … he didn’t know when; before that pony ride. The place was clean and comfortable, and he was pretty sure no one knew he was here, who had no business knowing it.

He made himself a cup of coffee, sat down on one of the chairs in the small, neat kitchen, got out his phone, and called The Hyperion.

“Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless. How may I assist you?”

“Wes. Thank God you’re back.”

“Spike? What on earth’s the matter?”

Spike grunted. “What isn’t? Know anything about magic, Wes?”

“A little. We’ve done a few exorcisms, opened a dimensional portal, that kind of thing. What’s going on? Harmony mentioned –”

“It’s Riley.” Spike picked up a pen and tapped it on the pad in front of him. “He’s changed. Almost overnight. And don’t tell me people change –”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Spike.”

Wesley’s voice, worried and sympathetic, touched something in Spike’s heart, but that wasn’t what he needed right now. He gritted his teeth. 

“It’s like he’s a different person, Wes, and it’s not just with me. His mum’s seen it. Even the animals are acting differently around him. He’s being messed with, by magical means, and so are some of his folks.”

Wesley made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Exerting magical influence over someone without their knowledge is very much frowned upon by the Watchers’ Council … unless they’re the ones doing it, of course. This sounds serious.”

Spike was relieved he wasn’t the only one who thought so. “I don’t know who’s doing it. All I do know is, Maggie Walsh is probably involved.”

“Maggie Walsh?”

“That bitch who put the chip in my head. You know – the one from the Initiative, where Angleman used to work. But she was a scientist, not a magician.”

“Well, I’m not really much of a practitioner either, but I know someone who is. Buffy’s friend, Willow Rosenberg, is becoming quite a magical adept. She’s even gone so far as to try small teleportations. She might be willing to advise you.” 

“Red, huh? Yeah, I remember. But I don’t think she’ll be too keen to dash to my rescue. Last time I saw her, I threatened her with a broken bottle, to make her to do a spell for me.”

Wesley coughed. “Yes, well. That is rather unfortunate. But perhaps if I explained your situation –”

“You think?”

“Well, I could mediate. You have changed since then, and she might be persuaded. She’s been going through certain … changes herself, over the last year or two.”

“Well, if you think so … Yeah, talk to the witch for me, and if you think she’s not bearing too much of a grudge, give her my number. But if you think of anyone else …”

“I’d come myself, but we’re a little busy just now.”

“Sorting out the holiday snaps, from your trip to Copa-parallel-cabana, eh?”

“Something like that. And anyway, Willow’s far more experienced.”

“Thanks, Wes.” Spike didn’t want to push too hard, but – “You think you can do it today?”

“I’ll call directly, and impress upon her that the matter is very urgent.”

Spike breathed a sigh. “Thanks again, Wes.”

So then Spike pottered around the flat, waiting to see whether Willow would take pity on him, and wondering what Buffy would have to say about it, if she did.

~~

“Wait a minute, Wesley – slow down.” Willow wrinkled her nose at the phone. “You’re telling me Spike needs my help? Spike, the Big Bad Vampire?”

“Yes, the vampire. Although, not so bad any more.”

“He threatened me with a –”

“Yes … a broken bottle. He told me about that. He asked me to tender his most abject apologies.”

“Oh.” Willow frowned. “So, Spike is your friend now?”

“Oh yes. Most definitely.”

Willow considered in silence for a moment. “Is he your ‘special friend’?” 

“My –? No! I mean, no. And Spike has a … ‘special friend.’ It just isn’t me. I’m a normal friend.”

Willow doubted that Wesley was a ‘normal’ anything. Then she processed what he’d said.

“Wait a minute ... Spike’s gay, now? ’Cos if he is, Xander owes me twenty bucks.”

“Well, I’m not certain of that, exactly, but at the moment, his ‘special friend’–”

“You can say ‘boyfriend’, Wesley. I’m gay too, remember.”

“Well, you started this ‘special friend’ nonsense.” Wesley sounded annoyed. 

“Well, now I’m finishing it.” Willow glared at the receiver. “Just tell me what Spike’s problem is, and I’ll think about it. But only because he’s your friend, and in the interests of rainbows, and gay solidarity, and not because I like him at all, or because he broke up Xander and Cordelia. Not that that got me anywhere.”

“Right. Yes, of course. Well, the thing is, Spike’s er … boyfriend Riley –”

Willow nearly dropped the phone. “Hold up a minute, Mister. Riley Finn?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“Riley’s gay too?” Willow bit her lip. “Buffy better not find out her Curse struck again. She only had one date with him. First Scott Hope starts dating Tucker’s brother, then there was the whole Parker instant sex-change thing, which I got blamed for, though I didn’t do it, but if I had, I would have been pretty damn proud of myself. Sorry – I’m babbling. But Riley being gay could really set Buffy back.”

“Well never mind about Buffy –”

“She’s my best friend! Well, she was …”

“Perhaps I should just give you Spike’s number, and let him explain things.”

“Yes, I think that might be best. But are you sure this isn’t some evil plot of Spike’s, to get back at Buffy or Angel?”

“I swear to you Willow, Spike is a reformed character,” Wesley said. “And so am I.”

~~

Spike answered his phone before the first ring had died. “Red?”

“Blue!” said the voice on the other end. “No – wait … green! This a secret code, right?”

“Sorry Al. I was expecting a call.”

“You were expecting a colour to phone you? Surreal. I hope you’re not going all weird on me, too.” 

Spike cocked his head. “So … who else is going weird?”

“Everyone! Even me! Yesterday, I told my Mom I didn’t want to go to Grandma’s this weekend. I said didn’t like Riley any more. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t want to see him, and then a few hours later, I wanted to see him again. Then, of course, Mom got all weird, and asked me if he’d touched me. It was gross. I had one hell of a job persuading her to let me come after that, but now I wish I hadn’t bothered.”

“Why’s that then, Pet?” Spike picked up a pen and started doodling on a take-away flyer he found nearby.

“Riley’s been really mean and horrible to everyone, and Grandma doesn’t seem to care any more, and Pops is just grumpy. And you’re not here. Where are you? Why have you gone away? Have you and Riley had a fight? Is that why he’s mad? Please don’t break up. I think Mom and Dad might be breaking up. I can’t stand it if you guys are breaking up too.”

“Okay Al, calm down,” Spike said, thinking hard. “I want you to listen to me very carefully. We’re not breaking up. I hope. But you’re absolutely right. Something weird is going on, and I’ve gone away to try and find out what it is. But you can help me, if you want.” Spike felt a twinge of guilt at asking the kid for help – but they had to get Riley back. “Are you in, Al?”

“Of course! Is this like, undercover stuff? What do I have to do?”

What could she do, that wouldn’t put her in danger? How good of an actress was she?

“Keep an eye on Riley for me. Don’t be too obvious about it, and don’t put yourself in any danger, but just see what he does. See if he talks to anyone you don’t recognise, and if he does, take a mental note of their description. Report in every hour, on the hour, or as near as you can, yeah? If you don’t, I’ll think you’re in trouble, and I’ll have to come and check on you. And act normal. Especially when that Graham fellow is about.”

“Yeah … I don’t like him. He has weird eyes, and he’s always lurking around.”

“Keep an eye on him too, okay?”

“This is so cool! I’ll be like, Ilya Kuryakin, or Syndney Bristow, or something!”

“Yeah, well. They were always getting caught. I expect you to do a lot better than Ilya Kuryakin, alright? First rule – don’t get caught.”

“Got it! But Spike, it was so weird. I asked Riley to shoot some hoops with me, and he … well it was like he’d gone mental or something. Like he was playing with someone who could actually beat him. He knocked me flying, and he didn’t even care. ‘If you can’t stand the competition, don’t try and play with the big boys,’ he said. What is wrong with him?”

“Wish I knew.” 

“Enemy agent,” Al whispered. “Gotta go.”

Spike couldn’t help grinning as she hung up.

Almost at once, the phone rang again, and Spike nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Al? Are you okay?”

“Spike?” said a confused voice. 

~~

Willow was suspicious at first, but even over the phone it was clear that, for all Spike’s attempts to appear business-like, his distress was genuine. He needed help, of the magical kind, and – though Spike couldn’t give her any idea of what she would have to do – Willow decided that she was just the girl to supply it. 

Despite Tara’s misgivings, Willow was boarding a plane to LA before the day was out, and bringing – as Spike said – ‘her Mojo’ with her, in a big overnight bag.

The seven hour flight to Des Moines would get her there the following afternoon. 

~~

When Todd came home from work at four-thirty, he had news. “I’ve been asking around, Spike, and there’s definitely strangers in town. One of ’em matches your wicked witch’s description. And she’s been seen with a tall feller, with a British accent. Jed heard ’em asking after Riley in one of the hardware stores. He told ’em how to get to the farm, but he didn’t know if they ever showed up.”

A tall Englishman? Could Maggie Walsh have teamed up with Giles? The librarian dabbled with magic a bit, but … Giles and Maggie Walsh? Didn’t seem likely. Could Giles be trying to get Riley back for Buffy? Surely meddling with the Slayer’s love life would be beneath Giles’s attention?

“A tall Englishman? You sure?”

Todd sat down on the sofa. “Yeah. And Jed says he was wearing a big coat.”

“Not tweed, then?”

Todd frowned. “What’s tweed?”

“Just scratchy stuff they make suits out of in England. How long ago was this?”

“I asked, but he couldn’t quite recall.” Todd started pulling off his boots. “Maybe four, five days ago, he said. Could be more.”

“Okay, thanks. That’s … interesting.” Giles, or not, this tall Englishman might be doing magic on Maggie’s behalf.

Now to get the awkward bit out of the way.

“Look, Todd. I just wanna say, thanks for putting me up, and all, but don’t let me cramp your style. If you’re bringing a girl back, just say the word, and I’ll get out of your hair, okay?”

Todd shook his head. “Thanks, but … that ain’t very likely. Never been a female set foot in this apartment, while I’ve lived here. Wouldn’t hardly know what to do with one, in any case.”

“Well, a guy then,” Spike hazarded.

Todd went bright red under his tan. “No offence, but … I ain’t like you and Riley. Mostly just keep to myself.”

“So you …” Spike frowned.

Then he got it. Todd was shy: to the point where it was almost crippling.

When Spike remembered his histrionics of last summer, and the assumptions he’d made about Todd’s social life, and sexual prowess, it seemed absurd. He might have burst out laughing – not at Todd, but at himself – if he hadn’t felt so ashamed.

Todd stayed after work talking to Josh and Riley Finn – and now to him as well – for the company; because this neat and lonely little flat was all he had, to come home to. The poor bloke must have found those weeks when Spike had made Riley give him the cold shoulder, horribly painful and confusing, though he probably wouldn’t have acknowledged it, even to himself.

Spike would have liked to apologise, but he stopped himself. It was water under the bridge; Todd would have no idea what he was apologising for, and would probably be embarrassed if Spike told him. 

Spike scratched the back of his head. “Sorry – none of my business really.”

“That’s okay. Guess I’m just kind-of a loner. You want a beer?”

“That would be great, thanks.” 

Todd got two beers from the fridge, opened them, gave one to Spike, then picked up his book and sat down again, with his feet on the coffee table. He waved at the bookshelves. “Help yourself. Or there’s the TV …”

“Thanks mate, but – I’ve got some thinking to do. Pen and paper would be great, though.”

“Over there.” Todd indicated a writing desk in the corner with a wave of his hand.

Spike sat down at the desk, and the two of them settled into a companionable silence.

Now, it was just a case of keeping his ears open, and waiting for Willow to arrive. Spike didn’t know how long he had, to thwart whatever plan Maggie Walsh had set in motion; he could only hope Willow wouldn’t be too late. 

~~


	13. Playing for Time

Though Ethan pushed the doll’s foot back under the bell jar before Maggie Walsh returned, it wasn’t long before she noticed that one of her captives appeared to have thrown off her spell.

“How could this have happened?” She fixed Ethan with a suspicious glare.

“Children can be unpredictable.” Though he was bluffing wildly, Ethan managed to look her straight in the eye. “They’re still growing. Their minds – their spirits – have yet to take on a fixed form, so it’s hard to cast a permanent enchantment over them. And I’ve heard people calling her Becky, and ’Becca, as well as Rebecca. If she hasn’t decided which name she prefers, the charm could easily fail to stick.”

Fortunately, Maggie seemed to accept his explanation. She tested the seals on the other bell-jars, and found them good. Then she turned to the snow-globe.

Riley was sitting at the table with his parents, and, of course, Graham. The little girl, Rebecca, was getting a packet of biscuits from the cupboard.

Maggie regarded the scene with passionate intensity. “How long before Riley is freed from the constraints of his birth-family? Before they reject him, and he comes looking for what he has lost?”

Rebecca tried to share the biscuits around, but no one was interested; no one even spoke.

“Not long, I feel.” Ethan almost said what he really meant: ‘I fear.’

“He should have been here by now,” Maggie fumed. “I was sure that getting the mother would be enough. Fathers! What do they mean to a boy?”

“What, indeed,” Ethan murmured.

“Well, I can’t wait forever. I’ll have to go to work on the man, Josh, as well.”

She picked up the cigar stub, and began sorting through the last of her ingredients.

~~

“Oh, Great Eris – Goddess of Discord. Sow your seeds between Riley Finn, and his father, Josh Finn. Let blood war with blood. Let Riley Finn be cast out from the family home.”

At once, the scene inside the globe changed.

“You think more of that vampire than you do of me!” Riley yelled, thumping his fist against the wall.

Josh faced off with him, palms flat on the table. “We’re thinking of your good, Riley, like always.”

“Thinking of my good? Trying to mate me with that blood-sucker?”

“Something’s blown dust in your eyes. You can’t see it now, but you’ll wake up one morning – quite soon I reckon – and come to your senses. I just hope it’s soon enough.”

Maggie sneered. “Trite, homespun drivel!”

Then Riley’s voice echoed around the chapel: “I’ve had enough of your trite, homespun drivel.”

Ethan felt his mouth drop open; Maggie just smiled an alligator smile. 

Josh Finn stared levelly at Riley. “No one’s forcing you to listen. Door’s right there.”

Riley turned and went out, slamming the door.

“Oh, he’ll be here soon.” Maggie rubbed her hands together. “He’ll be here very soon, to find what he’s been missing. I must be ready.”

She picked up a clipboard and went to where her supplies were kept, then she smacked the clipboard against a pillar in annoyance. “What’s happened to all the candles? I could have sworn I had plenty left for the final ritual.”

“Oh dear.”

Ethan tried to look innocent. It wasn’t easy even when he _was_ innocent, which wasn’t very often. On this occasion, he was guilty of deliberately burning more candles than strictly necessary, and hiding some of them about the place. The longer he could delay her, the better the chance his power would return, in time to thwart her plans.

“And what would that final ritual be?” 

Maggie didn’t reply. She just got out her car keys and left without a word.

When she’d gone, Ethan closed his eyes, pressed his fingers together, and – taking his cue from Maggie, that Riley’s mother was of prime importance – pointed towards the jar where the woman sat cross-legged on the floor.

“Manumitte! Manumitte! Manumitte!”

This time, the jar didn’t even shudder on its base. Maggie must pumped a bit more juice into the spell on Sarah Finn. Sighing, Ethan resigned himself to setting his sights a little lower. 

~~


	14. Developments

On her last check-in before bed, Al had bad news for Spike. Josh and Riley had nearly had a fight, and Riley’d stormed out. The two of them had already been to the edge once, so this was worrying.

Willow was due to arrive at teatime tomorrow, but until then, there wasn’t much Spike could do about it. So he suggested to Todd that they get drunk; a proposition to which Todd readily agreed.

Spike hadn’t told Todd what was going on, and Todd didn’t ask, so it was quite restful. In fact, Todd was such a quiet drunk that Spike started talking, just to fill the silence. He almost got himself into hot water by waxing lyrical about the ‘old days’, which – as far as he was concerned – ended with the Second World War. Then Todd put a Johnny Cash LP on his turntable, and Spike got maudlin, and drank himself into oblivion. 

When he woke up the next morning, he found himself lying full-length on the sofa, under a couple of blankets. Someone had thoughtfully removed his boots.

“One of these days, that Todd’s gonna make someone a lovely wife,” Spike muttered to himself.

Todd had already gone off to work, but there was coffee left brewed in the percolator, so Spike poured himself a mug.

Al had no news for him all morning; Riley wasn’t around. He’d gone off to work with some of the men, and she’d asked to tag along, but he’d told her that she’d be in the way. She sounded upset.

Spike told her, again, not to worry, but he could hardly blame her for doing the same thing he was.

He set to checking through his notes about the changes in Riley’s behaviour, how the animals and other people had reacted, what Graham had said, and the weird stuff that had been happening. He didn’t want to leave out anything that might help Willow, but he glossed over one or two details to spare her blushes, and Riley’s reputation.

Then he went out to the store and replaced Todd’s bottle of JD that he’d despatched last night. After that, he tried to get some more sleep, so he’d be fresh for whatever the night had in store.

Mid-afternoon, Al checked-in. “Spike, Riley’s gone, and no one seems to care.”

Spike’s blood ran cold. “Gone? Gone where?”

“I don’t know. The guys he was working with say he just disappeared. Wandered off or something. When they went to the pick-up place at the end of work, Riley didn’t show.”

Maggie must have snatched him …

“Who was the last person to see him? What time was it?”

“He went off to do some work on his own at 12:30. No one saw him after that. Todd stayed behind to look for him.”

“Good man.” 

“And Todd’s not back yet either. That was two hours ago.”

“What about Graham? He still hangin’ around?”

“That’s the weird thing. He’s been helping – trying to get Pops and Grandma to look for Riley – but he doesn’t go and do it himself. He looks kind-of helpless. I thought he was gonna cry.”

Well, that chimed with what Graham had told him – that he was trapped at the farm. Perhaps he wasn’t so much watching, as being used as some kind of spy, without knowing it.

It was still three hours until Willow was due in, so Spike locked the flat, got into his car, and drove out to the farm, to check on the situation for himself.

Jess started barking frantically as soon as he arrived, but didn’t come to greet him, so he leapt up the porch steps, and dashed inside.

When he burst into the kitchen, he found Josh and Sarah sitting at the table, having tea and sandwiches. Al stood in a corner, watching them, with a wary look on her face.

Spike tried to act like everything was normal. “Hey Josh, Sarah. Riley about?”

“Sorry Spike. He didn’t come back from work with the others.” Sarah calmly finished off her sandwich. 

“So, where is he?” Spike tapped a nervous rhythm on his thigh. “I need to see him.”

“Who cares?” Josh put his mug down. “I’d have thought you’d seen enough of him. I sure have.”

“Yes, Spike.” Sarah picked up a cookie, and made a beckoning motion with it, before taking a bite. “Now he’s gone, you can come back home, can’t you?”

That was too much. “What is wrong with you people?” Spike glared at each of them in turn, and shook his head. “Your son, is missing. Shouldn’t you be organising a search party, or assembling a posse, or something? Don’t you want to know where he is? I do.”

Sarah shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it Spike. Riley’s lived here all his life. It’s not like he can get lost. More’s the pity.”

Spike just stared. Al raised an ‘I told you so’ eyebrow, and Spike gestured to her to follow him.

Once outside she folded her arms. “See what I mean? Totally Stepford.”

Spike went down on his haunches and took her by the shoulders. “Okay, listen to me Al. You are not to worry. I’m gonna sort this, and I’m gonna bring Riley home. And when I do, you mustn’t be too hard on him, okay? I don’t think any of this is his fault.”

Al nodded seriously.

Then Jess started barking. Al shook her head. “She’s been going mental all day.”

“She’s upset. I think she and Riley fell out.”

“I know. I thought he was gonna kick her. He made me tie her up, to stop her following him around.”

Spike frowned. “She was following him? That’s different.”

“All over the place.” Al made a face. “Even to the john. I ought to go and let her off the chain.”

Spike frowned, thinking. “No – leave her for now. Don’t want her running off to find him, without us. That wouldn’t do anyone any good. Has she got food and water?”

“I’ll go make sure. But what’s happening, Spike?”

“I think someone’s cast a spell over Riley. Probably over your Gran and Pops too.”

Al’s eyes widened. “Magic? Is it a witch?”

“Yeah, you could say that. But I’ve got my own specialist on the way. Gotta pick her up at the airport. She should be able to sort this out – no problem.”

He said that with more confidence than he felt. He still had no idea how good Willow was, or how much she’d be prepared to help him.

Al patted him on the arm. “I’m sure it’ll be okay. I’ll go see to Jess. Tell me if there’s anything else you want me to do.”

Spike nodded. “Sure. Thanks, Al.”

Then he went to the cabin, pulled the trunk down from on top of the wardrobe, and got out one of Riley’s M9s, and a couple of clips of ammunition. He hoped he wasn’t over-estimating Willow’s abilities, but – if he was – brute force was always an option.

He put the gun in the glove-box, and drove to the airport, arriving a few minutes before Willow’s flight was due to land.

That’s when Spike realised he was nervous. He really hoped Red wasn’t going to make things difficult, what with the kidnapping-and-bottle incident. He waited in the arrivals hall, wishing he could have a fag, and examining each face that came through. 

When Willow finally appeared, Spike hardly recognised her. She’d grown; or perhaps she was just standing up taller, and not trying to avoid being noticed any more. Her attire was less fluffy than he remembered, and much better co-ordinated, in dark greens and purples. She had a large overnight bag over her shoulder. It didn’t seem to be weighing her down at all. Maybe she’d been working out.

As she came towards him, she looked as though she were scrutinising something, though her eyes weren’t quite focusing on him. He looked behind him, but there was nothing there.

After a few seconds, she visibly relaxed. Loud in the echoing airport building she said, “So, Spike. You’re gay now.”

Spike shrugged and glanced around. “Kind-of.” 

“Me too!” She grasped his arm impulsively. “I have a girlfriend.”

Spike felt his eyebrows lift slightly. So that was what Wes had meant, about Willow going through changes.

“It suits you,” he observed. “So you and Fluffy finally got down and –”

“No! Not Buffy! And don’t think about me being gay!”

Spike smirked. “Rather difficult to think of anything else, when you keep talking about it.”

“Oh!” She punched his arm. “You’re still thinking of me with Buffy!” 

“I wasn’t!” Spike raised his hands in self-defence. “Not Buffy.” He pursed his lips.

Willow looked as if she’d swallowed a lemon. “Me and Cordelia?”

Spike grinned, and shook his head. “No, but keep guessing. This is fun.”

“Just don’t think about me at all!”

“Okay, okay.” 

“And I won’t think about you and Riley either … any more.” Willow shook her head firmly. “No Siree!”

Spike snorted. “Won’t be any ‘me and Riley’ to think about, if you can’t help me.” He dipped his head.

Willow put a hand on his arm. “Okay Spike. I’ll try. But there’s not going to be any bottle in face this time, is there? Because Wesley promised –”

“No! I’m different now … and not just in a rainbow-coloured, going-out-in-daylight way, either.”

“Wait a minute! You’re out in daylight!”

“Greased lightnin’!” Spike flashed the ring at her.

“The Gem of Amarra!” Willow frowned. “Did you steal that from Angel?”

“No!” Spike said, offended. “It was a present, honest. I don’t steal stuff any more. Not from friends, anyway.”

“Angel’s your friend now?” Willow’s mouth made a half-mystified, half-disgusted shape.

Spike hunched his shoulders up to his ears. “Told you – I’m different.” 

Willow stared closely at him. “Yes, you are, aren’t you? Hey, did someone, by any chance, give you a soul?”

“Not that I know of. Aren’t you the only one who can do that?”

“Well, I did put the ritual on the internet – just in case anyone had a vampire they needed re-ensouling. Seemed more humane than killing them.”

Spike stared at her for a moment. “How very bleedin’ public spirited of you. Hey! Does that mean Angel will have hundreds of mini-me-s, running around, competing for brooding rights?” 

“I never thought of that.” Willow snickered. “So. Fill me in. What am I doing here?”

~~


	15. Trapped

Everything was going wrong. But it was like it was happening to somebody else.

Riley whacked the fence-post with the mallet.

Spike had gone. Turned his family against him, and left without a word – the ungrateful slut. Left him here, working on Daddy’s farm. He’d ended up the way he’d used to dread: going nowhere, and contributing nothing to the world except for a few well-made fences.

And why did Todd have to keep asking if he was okay? Reminding him, over and over, how very far from okay he felt.

Riley threw down his mallet, and – leaving all his tools lying where they were – he wandered off the track, and into the woods.

It was quiet here: too quiet.

He picked up a switch, and spent a few minutes stripping off the bark, leaving it pale and naked. Then he set off, thwacking it against the tree trunks as he went.

Perhaps he had some kind of mental illness.

Now he thought about it, leaving the army to save a vampire’s life seemed pretty incredible. Perhaps, even now, he was hallucinating in a padded cell somewhere. Perhaps he’d been there for the last two years, or however long it was since he’d known where his life was headed.

He heard twigs snap under someone’s feet, and spun round.

Todd was in his face again. “Riley, man. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Everyone keeps asking me what’s wrong, when it should be damn obvious. What is this? Some kind of conspiracy to make me think I’m the one whose nuts? Gave up a good career to live with a blood-sucker, and no one thinks there’s something wrong with that? God! They all like him better than me! Can’t they see he’s using me?”

“Blood-sucker?” Todd shook his head. “C’mon Riley – this is Spike you’re talking about here. You and Spike are closer ’n two slices of bread. Whatever’s gone wrong between you, it’ll surely pass. Give it time. Spike can go on staying at my place, so you don’t need to –”

“Spike’s staying at your place?” Riley felt blood rush to his cheeks. “Since when? What the hell’s going on?”

Todd took a pace back from him. “Since last night.”

“All night? He was with you, all last night?”

“Yeah, he slept on the –”

“I don’t believe this … You’re on his side.” Riley felt ready to explode. “I suppose you’re fucking him too!”

Todd’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Then Todd took a swing, connecting with Riley’s jaw. It wasn’t a bad shot, but Todd was used to bar-room brawls; he wasn’t a trained fighter.

Riley knocked him out cold, with a single blow.

Then he stared at his best friend, laid out on the ground. He swallowed. In the silence of the woods, his cell-phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket – just his brat niece calling him. He threw it down, letting it ring as he walked away, deeper into the woods.

Something was wrong; something was missing, and he was going to find it. 

So he walked – not looking where he was going, just letting the thoughts run circles in his head. Spike had used him; turned his family against him. He should never have left the army.

Then why _had_ he left?

It had seemed like the right thing to do, at the time … 

~~ 

Riley felt like he’d been walking for hours without getting any nearer to an answer. He didn’t know where he was, or how he’d got here. Nothing around him looked familiar, so he must be well past the perimeter of the farm, and dusk was falling. But he wasn’t going back. There was no place there for him now. Hadn’t exactly been thrown out, but he knew where he wasn’t wanted.

He heard a dry, aching sound come from somewhere in his chest.

He’d better find someplace to spend the night. A building loomed up ahead – an old church. It looked abandoned, but it should be defensible. He approached the wooden doors, opened them, and went into the porch. 

Then something hit him. Everything went black.

~~

“Why is the dog no longer under my control?” a woman’s voice demanded. “Have you been meddling with the jars?”

Riley struggled to make sense of what he heard, as he clawed his way back to consciousness. The woman sounded annoyed, but the voice seemed familiar – even comforting. What was less comforting was that he couldn’t move; he was tied to a chair. 

“Well, it’s only an animal,” an Englishman’s voice replied. “Perhaps the creature has forgotten its name.”

“Hmm. Perhaps …”

The woman’s voice came from close by. It sounded like … Surely it couldn’t be?

Riley opened his eyes, and saw Professor Walsh standing in front of him. 

“Ah, there you are, Lieutenant Finn. It’s good to see you again. Your absence severely compromised our Mission.” She ran a hand around his jaw, and tilted his chin up towards her. “I’m glad you’ve seen the error of your ways.”

As Riley looked up into her eyes, hard and brittle as slate, he felt afraid; in that moment, all he wanted was for her to approve of him.

“I thought I’d done the right thing, Professor – leaving the Initiative. But things have been going wrong. Nothing feels the same.”

“Of course it doesn’t. You’ve come to your senses, as I knew you would. Such a bright boy. You should never have left, but you’re back now, and I forgive you.”

Riley was flooded with gratitude and relief. “But why am I tied up, Professor?”

He tested the ropes that bound his arms to the chair, but suddenly they weren’t just ropes – they were snakes, coiling around his wrists and biceps. He wasn’t usually scared of snakes but these … these weren’t ordinary snakes. There were words mixed in with the hissing sounds they made; he couldn’t make them out.

He shook his head, and the snakes disappeared; they were just ropes once again. Perhaps he really was going mad.

Professor Walsh stroked his hair. “Don’t worry Riley. It’s just a precaution.”

“Against what? Am I dangerous?”

“Well, you did turn against me before, didn’t you?”

Riley felt sick. He _had_ turned against her. After all she’d done for him.

“You betrayed the Mission, Riley. Well, The Initiative may be gone, but I’m still here, and my objectives haven’t changed.”

She walked around the back of his chair, and now Riley could see a tall man in a long coat, standing off to his left. That must be the Englishman whose voice he’d heard. The man’s expression was stony.

Professor Walsh pressed her fingers and thumbs into Riley’s shoulders, as if to make him relax. It didn’t work, but now her eyes were no longer upon him, Riley felt his fear lessen.

“But what do you want with me?”

“Why are you so worried, Riley?” She came round to the side of the chair, and leaned down over him. “You know I always have your best interests at heart. You have a greater destiny than to spend your life on a farm, with that vampire whore.”

She seemed to be snatching the thoughts from his mind.

But then the snakes were there again, spilling from Professor Walsh’s lips. One of them slithered up his chest, and into his mouth. He was gagging; he couldn’t get it out. He tried to breathe through his nose, his chest heaving. 

Maggie moved away, leaving him to choke. “You’ll be pleased to see that I finally got my Polgara demon.” She picked up a glass sphere, with something black, oozing around inside it. “Well, the essence of a Polgara, in any case. Soon, we’ll both be able to enjoy it.” 

~~

Ethan watched from the shadows. Seeing the old hag mauling Riley Finn made him sick to his stomach. While it went against his nature to worry about morality, he could still take sides based on personal preference. The thought that Maggie might use Riley to start her army of monsters made Ethan want to strike her down.

But with his own powers at such a low ebb, the thought of openly going up against a practitioner who could put thoughts into people’s heads, and manifest her words as living things, was … well, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

Ethan closed his eyes, steepled his fingers, pointed towards the jar that held the better part of Riley Finn hostage, and murmured: “Manumitte, manumitte, manumitte.”

The jar rattled slightly, then settled back on its stand.

Summoning all his fear and his disgust, Ethan tried again.

~~

Now the Professor was no longer looming over him, Riley could get a good look at the table in front of him, set up like some bizarre magical laboratory. There were bell jars of different sizes; some had toys in them: a Dracula figure leaning against the glass; a little girl doll, and a soft toy dog.

But in other jars he could see figures the size of dolls, but alive: held captive, and alone. A woman sitting in a pose of meditation; an older man, fuming: his fists by his sides; two horses, one grey and one chestnut, moving a pace forward, and a pace back.

The Lieutenant and Suzie ...

What the hell was going on? 

And in the largest and most central jar – a soldier, his knuckles bloody. Riley couldn’t see the soldier’s face, because he was sitting on the ground, with his head in his hands.

Forgetting he was bound, Riley tried to stand, but only succeeded in lifting the heavy wooden chair a few inches off the ground, and banging it back down on the stone.

The soldier looked up; his eyes were red from weeping.

Riley felt suddenly cold. It was him. The soldier in the jar was him. The thing he’d lost – that he’d come looking for – was trapped in that jar.

Then, as he watched, the jar rattled on its stand, and the soldier stood to attention, his rifle by his side, and froze in place. Riley felt something snap back – slap him in the face. The things he’d thought, and said, and done, over the past few days, swam into focus.

Sick with guilt, Riley turned angry eyes on Professor Walsh. “You! You did this to me!” 

But she wasn’t listening. She was stroking and polishing the globe containing the oily black presence, and talking, half to herself. “The strength and will of a demon, combined with your skill and abilities –”

“What are you going to do to me?” Riley said softly.

The Professor turned her serpents’ eyes upon him. “This is an Orb of Thessulah. It holds a spirit in temporary bondage. You will be the Polgara’s new vessel – its new home.”

Riley felt a surge of adrenalin, but instead of struggling against the ropes, he made an effort to relax, and began trying to loosen them by slow degrees. “You’re not putting that thing inside me.”

Maggie cocked her head. “And who will stop me?”

Though he didn’t feel very hopeful, Riley returned her gaze calmly. “Spike will stop you.”

Maggie gave his thoughts voice. “After what you did? I doubt it.”

“I didn’t … It wasn’t me, that wasn’t me.”

“But he wasn’t to know that.” Maggie’s lips curled in a parody of a smile. “He left you, didn’t he? No one will come looking for you. No one cares about you – no one but me.”

“Spike will come,” Riley said, fear in his throat. Spike had no reason to look for him. Probably didn’t even know he’d gone missing. “He will come for me.” 

“Face it Riley, I’m all you’ve got.”

“Then kill me.”

The Professor’s face hardened. “It doesn’t matter anyway. When I’ve done this ritual, he can search all he wants – what he finds won’t bear much resemblance to the man he knows as Riley Finn.”

Riley swallowed. His only chance was to play for time, and keep working on these ropes. “So, who’s this?” Riley jerked his chin towards the Englishman, who was still lurking in the shadows. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about Ethan.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Ethan sounded as if it were all one to him, whether she was ready or not. “The restoration ritual can be quite dangerous for the spell-caster. Perhaps you should wait until you’re stronger.”

“I was strong enough to blast both of us out of prison. I don’t see how much stronger I need to be. Now help me, or get out of my way.”

Ethan took a pace forwards. “Well, perhaps, just to be on the safe side –”

“Oh, do stop dithering.” Professor Walsh went to the communion table and picked up a sheet of paper. “Bring me four of the new candles, the runic stones, and the incense with the burner.” She looked questioningly at Ethan.

He disappeared for a moment, and came back with the items she’d asked requested.

The Professor studied them, then consulted her list. “Damn! I forgot about the animal bones. It says here that I need animal bones.”

Ethan’s face brightened. “That shouldn’t be a problem. There’s always animal bones lying around in woods. Shall I go and find you some?”

“Yes, you do that.” 

Ethan looked surprised, but he went to the door, and gave it a tentative push. It swung open, and Ethan slid out, leaving Riley alone with Professor Walsh.

Now he would have to do all his own stalling. But the Professor always liked showing off how clever she was. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

“So – Professor. How did you accomplish all this?” 

~~


	16. Showdown

During the drive to the farm, Spike filled Willow in on what had been happening, and Willow was very quiet throughout.

Finally she murmured, “Professor Walsh has the power to influence people’s behaviour from a remote location? This is big league stuff. No wonder she never bothered to finish the semester.” Then she went quiet again.

As for whether Willow could handle the situation – Spike was afraid to ask. He left her in the car, going over his notes, and went to collect Jess.

The dog barked an eager greeting.

“Hey Jess. Think you can find Riley for us?” 

Al bounded down the porch steps. “I thought it must be you. I found out where they were working today – North Trail, about a half mile from the gate.”

“Good work, Kid.” 

Al’s hands were clasped at her stomach, in an anxious knot. “Are we going to find Riley now? Bring him back?”

“That’s the idea,” Spike said. “Except for the ‘we’ part.”

“Can’t I –?”

“No, you can’t come,” Spike said firmly.

Al pouted, and folded her arms across her chest.

“Sorry and all. You did a good job with the information gathering, but this is gonna be dangerous.”

“I don’t care!”

Spike went down on his haunches, and took Al by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Al. I’m gonna sort this, and I’m gonna bring Riley home. But I can’t risk taking you along. What do you think Riley – the Riley we know – would say, if I put you in danger, eh? Think he’d thank me for it?”

Al sighed. “Alright then. I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“Good girl. And when he comes home, you mustn’t be too hard on him, okay? I know he’s been acting weird lately, but I don’t think any of this is his fault.”

Al nodded, and glanced longingly towards the car. 

Willow waved cheerily at her.

Al raised her eyebrows. “That’s your ‘specialist’?”

Spike’s mind flashed to the gun in the glove-box. “One of ’em.”

“She’s just a girl.” Al planted her feet wide, and glared at Willow. “She’s not that much older than me.”

“Can’t always judge by appearances,” Spike said. “Thought you knew that.”

Al didn’t reply – just glared, and pouted some more.

Spike untied Jess, led her to the car, opened the back door for her to jump in, then slammed the door shut. “Gonna wish me luck?”

“Does that work?” Al said. “Do you think you need it?”

Spike pursed his lips. “Do you wanna risk not doing it?” 

She shook her head. “Good luck, Spike.”

He nodded and got in.

~~

They’d been driving along the North trail for about five minutes – both keenly scanning the road ahead, in case Riley should appear – when Spike saw a figure in the headlights, trudging down the track towards them.

“Hey, there he – oh.”

It wasn’t Riley, it was Todd.

Spike drew up next to him. “What news?” 

“Riley slugged me.” Todd ruefully rubbed his jaw. “I must have been out for a while. I looked around, but there was no sign of him. Sorry Spike.”

Spike shook his head. “No worries. You did your best. This is Willow, by the way. She’s a friend. Come to help … search.”

Willow smiled at Todd; for a brief moment, she looked just the way Spike remembered.

Todd nodded at her. “Howdy.” Then he looked away.

Spike felt his lips curl. Todd really wasn’t comfortable with girls. “Get in.”

Todd got in the back seat with Jess; she greeted him with a perplexed whine, and a lick of his face.

Spike glanced over his shoulder. “If you can show us where Riley went off-piste, we’ll find him.”

“We were right at the north fence, near the woods. He left his tools, and everything. It ain’t like him.”

Spike gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “He’s not himself, that’s for sure.” 

“He could have gone a good few miles by now,” Todd said. “How are we gonna find him in the dark?”

“If you have something of Riley’s, I could do a locator spell,” Willow volunteered.

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, Spike saw Todd’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m hoping Jess here’s gonna find him for me. No offence, Red, but she’ll probably be quicker.”

“I’ll save my mojo for later then.” Willow folded her hands in her lap. She looked over her shoulder at Todd. “So, Riley hit you?”

“That’s what it felt like.” Todd rubbed his jaw some more. “He ain’t never done that before. And what’s a ‘locator spell’? Anyone wanna let me in on what’s happening here?”

Spike stared at the road ahead. “Soon as I know for sure, I’ll tell you. Whether you believe it or not – well, that’s up to you.”

“Okay.” Todd shrugged, and lapsed back into silence.

A few minutes later, they reached the northernmost edge of the farm. Spike stopped the car, and Todd got out.

“He went off this way.” Todd pointed at the woods to the left of the track.

Spike took the gun out of the glove-box, and retrieved a flashlight from the boot of the car, then let Jess out of the back seat, catching hold of her lead before she could go tearing off. Willow got out, and they went over to where Todd was standing near the trees.

Jess sniffed around the area, whined, then started tugging Spike forwards.

“Good girl, Jess. Wait up.” Spike caught hold of the dog’s collar. “Red – are you set? Got your bag of tricks?”

“Oh, no. It’s in the car.”

“I’ll get it.” Todd went to the car and came back with the bag on his shoulder. “Boy, that’s some weight. You brung the kitchen sink in there?”

Spike turned to Willow. “Want me to carry that, lil’ lady?”

“No, I’d better take it. Some of the things might be sensitive to being carried by v–” Willow stopped, frowned slightly, and glanced at Todd: “– very inexperienced people.” She took the bag, slung it over her shoulder, and murmured, “Minuere.” At once, the bag seemed to sit more lightly.

Spike raised an eyebrow. Maybe Willow the little Witch did have game, after all. 

“Red, do you have a mobile?” 

“Sure. And it’s all charged up.”

“Okay. Todd – stay here with the car until I call, will you? There’s cans of coke in the trunk if you need a drink. Maybe some chocolate, too.”

“You don’t want me to come along?”

“No. We might need a quick get-away, and you’re our wheel man.” Spike handed Todd his phone. “All you have to do is answer it – that button there.”

Todd squinted at the phone, then nodded. “Sure. Whatever you say. I hope you find him.”

Spike flicked on the flashlight, then he and Willow set off through the trees, with Jess leading the way. 

After about half a mile, the dog stopped, and scrabbled around among some leaves.

Willow went to look; she came back with a mobile phone in her hand. “I guess this is Riley’s.” She passed it to Spike.

“Yeah, this is his.” Spike put it in his pocket. “At least we’re on the right track.”

Willow nodded.

Soon after that, Jess found the spot where Riley must have crossed the perimeter fence. Where he had gone, they followed.

~~

For the next hour or more, they made good pace through light woodland. Whenever brambles or thick shrubs threatened to impede them, Willow would murmur a word or two, and the thicket just seemed to move out of the way for them.

After she’d temporarily dried up a small stream that lay across their path, Spike raised an eyebrow. “You’re getting pretty good at this stuff.”

“I’ve learned a lot. My girlfriend Tara’s been helping me with some of the more natural magics, though she’s kind-of disapproving when I use my power so much. She thinks it’s lazy, or something. But I don’t get that. Use it or lose it, I say!”

Spike didn’t say anything. Truth be told, he was really on Tara’s side in this, but as he’d called on Willow to use her magical expertise to help him, it would have been hypocritical to say so.

“Mostly I use Giles’ library,” Willow said. “He was quite a badass in his day.”

“Yeah, I’d heard that.” Spike hoped Willow wouldn’t be offended by what his next question implied. “He’s not been … goin’ missing lately, has he?”

“No. And I saw him just before I left Sunnydale. There’s no way he’s the English guy you mentioned.” Willow came to a sudden stop. “Oh ... Oh no!”

“What is it?”

“I just … I think I know who it might be.”

“You do?”

“Giles had an old … friend … enemy or something – you know how it is – called Ethan Rayne. If weird stuff’s going down, he’s often mixed up in it, and he’s pretty powerful. He did that spell one Halloween.” Willow gripped Spike’s arm. “You must remember! When we were all turned into our costumes, and Buffy went all ‘I’m a little princess, won’t someone protect me’?”

Spike snorted. “How could I forget Buffy goin’ all girly-girl? That was an impressive spell. And fun. All the little monsters, and pirates, and whatall.” He cast a nervous glance at Willow; he’d let himself forget they’d been on opposite sides, back then.

But Willow seemed unfazed. “It’ll be a challenge, if I have to go up against Ethan.” 

Spike heard her heartbeat pick up: more in excitement than fear – or so he hoped. He pulled the pistol out of his duster pocket. “Well, we don’t just have to rely on your expertise.”

Willow’s eyes widened. “Okay … well, if you have to use it, you should know, I didn’t like Professor Walsh that much, either.”

Spike stared at her. “Duly noted. You _have_ changed, haven’t you?”

Willow didn’t answer; she just quirked her lips. 

A while later, Jess led them out into the open, on a dirt track that led up to an old church. A silver Audi was parked a little way off, under the trees. A tall man in a long raincoat emerged from the building.

Spike pulled Willow back into cover.

“That’s him!” she hissed.

The man glanced around him in a furtive manner, and then back at the church doors, then he made for the car.

Jess whined low in her throat.

“So, that’s our magic man …” Spike handed Jess’ lead to Willow. “I wonder where he thinks he’s going.”

Spike drew his gun, and stepped out onto the path. “Not so fast.”

By the time Ethan looked around, Spike was standing right next to him, in game-face, digging the gun into his ribs.

“Oh … shit. It’s you.” Ethan’s face twitched into a nervous smile. He offered his right hand for Spike to shake; his left went to the handle of the car door. “Look, I’m terribly sorry about all this, and it’s lovely to meet you, but I really must be off.”

He began opening the door, but Spike leaned on it, and pushed it closed.

Willow marched up to Ethan. She was wearing her stern face. “You just wait right there, Mister. Where do you think you’re going?”

Ethan’s eyes darted this way and that. “Away.”

“Away from what?” Spike frowned. “Maggie Walsh? But you’re helping her, aren’t you?”

“Only under duress!” Ethan raised both hands. “She’s had me by the balls. Literally. This is the first time I’ve been able to get away. She’s not interested in me any more, but I daren’t cross her, so don’t ask me to. She fries anyone who crosses her. Or anyone she doesn’t like, come to that.”

Willow’s face scrunched up. “Fries them? She’s got a flame-thrower?”

“She fries them with magic.” Ethan shuddered. “Please let me go.”

Spike stared at him. “Maggie’s doing mojo now?” 

“Yes. I’m afraid I underestimated her.”

A guilty look took up residence on Ethan’s face. It looked comfortable there.

“I let her learn too much from me. I’ll be lucky to get away with my skin intact. I’ve been waiting for a chance to escape, so please, just let me –”

Though Spike was still pressing the barrel of the gun into his flank, Ethan tried once more to open the car door, and worm his way inside.

Spike pulled him back by the front of his coat. “No. You’re staying here. You’d better tell us what’s going on. Has she got Riley in there?”

“Yes.”

“What does she want with him?”

Ethan twitched. “You’re not going to like it.”

“I already don’t like it,” Spike growled. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”

Ethan rubbed the side of his nose, trying to hide his face. “She wants to … put a Polgara demon’s essence into him. She want to start a –”

“Let me guess,” Spike interrupted. “A demon-human hybrid monster army.”

Ethan looked disconcerted. “Indeed.” 

“Doesn’t give up easy, does she?”

“No, she doesn’t.” Ethan grimaced. “And I have to admit – a demon-human hybrid monster army is not something of which I’m entirely in favour.”

“Well, then – now we’re gettin’ somewhere.” Spike straightened Ethan’s coat. “Given you disapproval, I’d have thought you’d be happy to lend a hand and help us stop her.”

He still had the gun pointing at Ethan, but gun or bottle-in-face only get you so far when you need someone’s help. It doesn’t get you their best work.

Spike lowered the weapon a little. “Look, Ethan, isn’t it? My friend is in there, and he’s in trouble. You’ll help me, won’t you?” He dropped out of game-face, and tilted his head on one side. “Please.”

Ethan drew in a sharp breath and his heart kicked up; but Spike could smell genuine fear coming off the man in waves, and it wasn’t Spike he was afraid of.

Ethan broke his gaze. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I’d like to help you but my power’s depleted. I did try, honestly.” He looked surprised at himself. “I even broke a couple of her spells while she wasn’t looking. But you’ll need a big-hitter for this.”

“I’ve got one.” Spike indicated Willow with a jerk of his head.

Willow’s eyes were like saucers. “Oh … no. Maggie fries people? She sounds way out of my league. I’m a small hitter. Very tiny hitter. In fact, I try not to hit anyone at all. I float pencils. And sometimes flowers.”

“Well, it looks like we don’t stand a chance.” Once again, Ethan started opening the driver’s side door. “Why don’t I just give you all a lift back to –”

“Oh, no you don’t, mate.” Spike slammed the door shut, almost catching Ethan’s fingers in it. “Not one of us is going anywhere without Riley, and if Walsh is that powerful, we’re gonna need all hands on deck – especially magical experts.”

“But I like my hands,” Ethan protested. “I need them for all kind of things, and I’d rather they weren’t turned into blackened stumps, if it’s all the same to you.”

Ethan’s face took on a constipated expression; the gun flew out of Spike’s hand, and Ethan took off at a dead run.

Before Spike could set off after him, Willow uttered a single word: “Thicken!” and Ethan suddenly slowed down and then froze, mid-stride. 

Spike stopped and stared at her.

“Oh, come on, is that really necessary?” Ethan’s voice came out distorted, like a record being played on a 33 instead of 45.

Willow marched round to stand in front of Ethan. “Release.”

Ethan fell flat on his face.

“So are you going to help us, or shall I freeze you right there, for Maggie to find later?”

Ethan looked up at her. “Well, given that impressive display, I think perhaps we might stand a chance after all.” He got to his feet, brushed himself down, then looked from Spike to Willow, and back again.

“Oh, very well.” He sighed. “I must be getting sentimental in my old age. Alright, children, gather round.” He squatted down, picked up a stick, and began drawing on the ground. “This is the layout.”

~~

Ethan went in first.

“Oh. There you are at last.” Maggie must have heard the door creak open, but she didn’t turn around. “I’m just about to start the ritual. Whatever you found out there, I don’t need it. There were some chicken bones in the garbage, from that take-out.”

“How convenient.” Ethan began walking along the aisle on the south side of the nave.

He’d left the door half-open; without making a sound, Spike and Willow slipped through after him. In any case, Maggie’s whole attention was fixed on a spot behind the communion table, where Ethan had told them Riley was positioned, tied to a chair. 

As Willow began making her way along the north aisle, Spike waited in the shadows near the door. In the candlelight, he could just about make Riley out. He couldn’t see Riley’s expression, but the man’s heart was beating way too fast. Hardly surprising; just seeing Maggie again sent ice water trickling down Spike’s spine.

“This all looks very interesting.”

Spike’s heart skipped a beat at hearing Riley’s voice.

“But I thought you didn’t believe in the supernatural, Professor. Magic – stuff like that. Isn’t it all nonsense?”

Riley shifted slightly in the chair – probably working on the ropes. He sounded strained, but much more like himself, now Ethan had released him from Maggie’s spell-work. 

“I’ve revised my opinions in the face of the evidence, as any true scientist would.” Maggie lit three candles, and set some incense burning in the centre of her sacred circle.

“What evidence would that be?”

Riley was obviously doing his best to stall her.

“I don’t remember you being this talkative.” Maggie turned a threatening look upon him. “And I don’t wish to discuss it, at this time. And if you don’t keep quiet, I just might have to gag you.”

Then she began to chant, reading from a sheet of paper: “‘Quod praesentis est, suppone, Nici mort, nici al fiinţei –’”

“Are you quite sure you’ve got that right?” Ethan – with faux innocence – interrupted her.

“I know what I’m doing,” Maggie snapped. “‘Te invoc spirit al trecerii, Gods, unbind him, cast his heart into the evil realm –’”

“It sounds like a ritual for the restoration of a soul,” Ethan persisted. “But what you said translates as: ‘What is present, substitute’. It’s just that I’d hate for anything to go –” 

“Be silent!” Maggie thundered.

Ethan flinched. Give the man credit, he doing a good job of distracting Maggie from Willow, who was soft-footing along the other side of the church.

But if they’d thought they could break Maggie Walsh’s concentration enough to delay the completion of the ritual, they’d been mistaken. Spike could feel the magical energies building to a peak; the interruption only seemed to have made Maggie put her foot on the gas.

“‘Te implor, Doamne; nu ignoră aceasta rugăminte, Lăsa orbită să fie vasul care-i vă transportă Esenta demon la el.’” Maggie pointed at the Orb of Thessulah in the centre of her sacred circle.

Spike shot a glance down the aisle to check on Willow’s progress: almost there. He willed her to go faster.

“‘Este scris, aceasta putere este dreptul poporul meu de a conduce, Redă trupului ce separe demon de animal.’”

“Oh, I see,” Ethan said loudly, still walking towards the front of the church. “You’re separating Riley’s soul from his body, so that you can transfer the Polgara demon soul from that Orb of Thessulah, into Riley. Interesting.” 

“We’ve been over this,” Maggie said sharply. “Sometimes I think you’re not paying attention to anything I say.”

At last, Willow and Ethan were level with Maggie, and it was Spike’s turn centre-stage. He raised the pistol, and pointed it at her. He could just pull the trigger – end her, right here and now – but if he killed her in the middle of a ritual, it might make things go awry. And how would Riley react if he saw Spike gun down his old Professor, in cold blood? 

Spike stepped out of the shadows, and yelled, “Hey, Bitch! You’ve got my fella.”

Maggie whipped round. “Don’t point that thing at me.” She scuttled behind the communion table, blocking Riley from his view. “You wouldn’t want to accidentally hit Riley, would you? Or his family?” 

As Spike strode down the centre aisle, he could hear soft chanting from either side of the church, but it seemed that – just as he’d hoped – Maggie could not.

Spike waved a dismissive hand at the jars on the communion table. “You just love putting things in cages, don’t you? Riley, his Mum and Dad, his niece. His dog. Even the horses. Couldn’t keep all of ’em though, could you?”

“It doesn’t matter. I have Riley here now.” 

“I see you didn’t manage to catch _me_ with your voodoo.”

That got through to Maggie Walsh like nothing had before. “I did that ritual time and again,” she snarled. “I used every name I could find for you. What is your true name? Tell me now, before I kill you.” She pointed a finger, firing a jolt of electricity that sent Spike’s gun clattering to the floor from his useless fingers.

In agony, Spike gripped his wrist. “You don’t know who I am.” He could still hear Willow and Ethan chanting, but they weren’t yet ready to release the spell. He had to keep her attention. “Even cut me open to find out, but you don’t know me now, and you never will.”

“Well, I would have liked that information, but it doesn’t matter now.” Maggie raised her hands, and closed her eyes. “‘Aşa să fie, cu ajutorul acestui magic glob de cristal. Aşa să fie! Aşa să fie! Acum! Acum!’”

Spike felt something snap closed. Desperate, he lunged forward, snatched the Orb from the table, and smashed it down on the stone floor.

It shattered. The demon’s essence swirled out, and up into a spiral, then the whorl of blackness seemed to orient itself. It swooped over the communion table, homing in, not on Riley, but on Maggie Walsh. It surged into her mouth, her ears, her nostrils; up inside of her.

She went rigid – her arms flung out to the sides, as if she were being worked by a demon puppeteer. Her face began to stretch and flex into a hideous shape. Her whole body writhed and shuddered; her bones looked as if they might burst through her skin.

Spike feared for Riley, still trapped right behind her, stone still; probably terrified. But there was nothing Spike could do for him right now. It was up to Willow and Ethan.

They stepped forward from the shadows on either side, and threw a glittering rainbow of dust over the hybrid monster. Coloured flecks clung to her skin, her hair, her clothes. A look of utter fury distorted her already demonic features.

Together, the two mages shouted, “Discede!” 

Then came a blinding flash, and what was left of Maggie Walsh disappeared in a cloud of sparks.

Willow wilted a little, but didn’t fall. There was a trickle of blood coming from her nose.

“Oh dear.” Ethan looked exceedingly smug. 

“Why? What happened?” Willow turned anxiously towards him. “We did it, didn’t we?”

“Well … yes, and no. Sometimes, I’m such a butter-fingers.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t we send her back to prison?”

Ethan shrugged. “I’m a bit drained. It’s just possible that I might have … dropped her … somewhere … from a great height. Not a problem, is it?”

“Not to me, mate,” Spike said.

Willow frowned slightly. “Well, she kidnapped Riley, and she was part-Polgara demon. But I’d better not tell Buffy. She might sic the Watchers’ Council on our asses.” 

Then Willow approached the communion table. “Wow!” She stared at the tiny trapped horses, and then at the two middle-aged people, both of whom now stood with their hands pressed against the glass. “This is impressive.” 

Spike grimaced. “That’s Riley’s parents.” He went round the table, and knelt at Riley’s feet. “No wonder they haven’t been much help. How do we get them out, or … put them back into themselves … whatever …?”

“It should be much easier to free them, now Maggie’s not here to keep the spell primed.” Ethan pressed his fingers together, and pointed at the captives. “Manumitte, manumitte – oh!”

The small prisoners had already stiffened into inanimate figures.

Willow’s mouth dropped open. “Um … you haven’t, you know, killed them, have you?”

“No. I’ve just released the part of them that cared about this Riley Finn fellow.”

“Let’s get you out of here.” Spike set about untying Riley’s ropes. His ring was no longer on Riley’s hand; didn’t matter. All that mattered was that … then Spike realised that Riley hadn’t said a word since …

Spike looked up into Riley’s face, and his heart sank. The man’s eyes were glazed and vacant, and his mouth was slack.

“Riley?” Spike took Riley by the shoulders, and shook him gently. “Riley, mate ... you in there? Are you okay? I’m sorry about your Professor …” 

Spike stood up, and turned to Willow, then to Ethan. “What’s wrong? Why is he like this?”

Ethan’s face was grim. “He was hit by more of Maggie’s spell-work than anyone. Over the last few days, she’s isolated him from everyone he cared about. And I’m afraid her mangled restoration ritual may well have succeeded in banishing his soul, to make way for the demon.”

Willow looked perplexed. “So why did the demon go into her, instead of Riley?”

“Demons always take the path of least resistance,” Ethan said. “I suspect it just went for the nearest soul-less person, which, rather unsurprisingly, happened to be …” Ethan stared at Spike. “Wait a minute –”

Spike waved away the question, as panic curdled in his belly. “Never mind that. How are we gonna get Riley’s soul back? This is the second time Maggie Walsh has got her claws into him. The second, or maybe the third time she’s brainwashed him. Now she’s taken his soul as well?” 

Willow stared regretfully at the shattered glass on the floor. “If we had another Orb, I could pop it back in, right now. But I didn’t bring one with me.”

“Please, tell me you can get hold of one,” Spike said urgently. 

Willow frowned. “Actually, that might be a bit of a problem. They’re not as common as they used to be.”

“Well, what are we going to do?” Spike collapsed to his knees, and put his head on Riley’s thigh. He felt a hand fall, like a dead thing, on the side of his face. He choked back a sob. Some part of Riley was still there – still trying to reach him; or maybe it was just muscle memory.

He felt empty, and deathly tired, and he missed Riley. But Riley was right here. Only he wasn’t. Then he felt a smaller hand on his shoulder. He looked up. Willow stood beside him.

“Come on Spike, pull yourself together.” Willow’s face was stern. “You’re no good to Riley like that. Let’s get him out of here – take him home. I’ll find an Orb somewhere. Maybe Cleveland.” 

Spike sniffed, and hauled himself to his feet. “Thanks, Red.”

Willow looked embarrassed. “I guess all of this is my fault, for putting that ritual on the internet.”

Spike shook his head. “You meant well.” 

“I really, really did.” 

“Right then.” Spike glanced around. “Ethan, give me a hand with –”

There was the sound of a car starting up, and taking off at top speed.

“Bugger.” Spike thumped his fist on the communion table. “Now we’ll have to wait until Todd can get here.”

Willow threw up her hands. “Well, that’s Ethan for you. He always gets out while the going is good. We’re lucky he stayed as long as he did.”

“Yeah, we’re real lucky.” Spike glanced down at Riley, still sitting like a stone. “Lend me your phone.”

Willow handed it to him, and Spike called Todd, and gave him a rough idea of their distance and bearing from where they’d left him. Meanwhile, Willow started gathering up the spare candles, and any other magical ingredients she could find, and packing them in a bag she found in the south transept.

“There’s all sorts of other stuff here, not just for magic. A kettle, a toaster –” 

“Leave it. Leave all that poisonous bitch’s crap.”

“O-kay.” Willow dropped the bag.

Spike shook his head. “Sorry. But it’s personal.”

“Hey, look at this.” Willow picked up a snow-globe. “It’s a bit like Riley’s house.”

Spike stared at the scene inside the globe. It was dark now, but he could clearly make out the familiar shape, and the longer he stared at it, the more detail he could see. Soon, it was almost as if he were actually there. He shook his head. “That _is_ our house. That must be how they were spying on us.”

He took it from Willow and put it in his pocket. “Best not let this fall into the wrong hands. Come to think of it, while I’m … helping Riley, you get all the magic stuff together. We’ll take it with us. Can you make sure it’s all safely decommissioned?”

“Sure.” Willow started collecting up the dolls, and all the personal items.

Meanwhile, Spike hauled Riley to his feet, and started shuffling him towards the door. Riley’s body seemed to remember what to do, but to have no will to move, unless Spike kept prompting him.

When they finally got there, Willow went to get Jess from where they’d tied her up outside. Then they waited in the porch. Jess snuffled at Riley’s hand, and Spike thought he saw it twitch in response. 

Soon, they saw the lights of the Camaro approaching, but when it was about twenty yards away, the car momentarily slowed, then accelerated, before coming to a halt in front of the church.

Todd got out, and stood staring up at the spire. “What the hell’s that?”

They looked up, and in the beam of Spike’s flashlight, they saw – impaled on the cross at the top of the spire – the monstrous remains of Maggie Walsh. 

“Ding dong, the Witch is dead.” Spike snorted. “C’mon. Let’s get Riley home. Give me a hand with him, will you, Todd?”

Todd came to Riley’s other side, and wedged his shoulder under Riley’s. “What’s happened to him?”

“He’s just a bit confused.” Spike took a deep breath. “Actually, that’s not true.” How much would Riley want Todd to know about what had happened? “Look, Todd, I know I promised to explain, but I think I’d better leave that for him to do – when he recovers. That okay with you?”

“Sure.” Todd gave Riley another worried glance. “He’s gonna get better, ain’t he?”

“Sure he is.” Spike’s lips were a tight line.

Together, they man-handled Riley into the back seat of the car. Spike and Jess got in the back with him, and Spike took Riley’s hand in his, and squeezed. He was sure he just imagined the slight answering pressure.

Nobody spoke throughout the entire drive back.

~~


	17. Restoration

When they got back, the place was buzzing with activity. Cars were parked outside; all the lights were on, and most of the hands were milling around the porch, collecting flashlights, and taking instructions from Josh.

Spike tapped Todd on the shoulder. “Wait here.” Then he got out, pushed his way through the throng, and took Josh aside. “You can call off the search. We’ve found him.”

Josh couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Guess we left it a bit late, taking your advice. Don’t know what –”

“Don’t worry about it,” Spike interrupted him. “Not your fault. But can you send these good people home? Riley’s not ready to see anyone yet.”

“Why? What’s happened to him?” 

“I’ll explain later. He’s not in immediate danger, and we know what we need to do. Just clear this lot out, so I can bring him in, quiet-like.”

Sarah came out, laden with drinks and snacks for the search parties to take with them. “Oh, Spike.” She dropped her gaze. “Have you –?”

“He’s in the car. Give these people their party-bags, and send ’em home.” Spike turned on his heel and strode back to the car.

Willow rolled her window down.

“How is he looking?” Spike asked her. “And more importantly, how long can he survive like this?”

Willow shook her head. “I don’t know, Spike. I guess, as long as we can get food and water into him, he could go on indefinitely, but I can’t be sure. I’ve never heard of this being done to a human. Looks like he’s operating on automatic right now, but without his soul to keep him going, he might just … run down. I need to do the ritual as soon as possible, if we’re to be sure of getting him back the way he was.”

“Right then.” Spike thought quickly. “Candles and incense, we got. Animal bones should be no problem. The Orb is your priority. There’s internet access in the cabin over there. Get online, and see how quick you can get one. Have it couriered. I’m paying. Make yourself a coffee, whatever.”

“Okay. Do I need a password?”

“Never bothered with one.”

Willow got out, and headed for the cabin.

Spike spotted Graham – looking as baffled as ever – among the dispersing search parties. “Graham – c’mere. We found Riley.”

Graham looked relieved. “Where is he?”

“Here.” Spike opened the door to the back seat. “But he’s not himself, right now.”

Graham looked inside. “Hey, Riley. Good to see you, man.” 

Riley’s hand moved up to the side of his head, as though he were trying to salute.

Spike turned away.

At last, the coast was clear, and Spike and Todd manoeuvred Riley out of the car, and walked him to the house, where Sarah and Josh waited, Sarah with her hands clasped in front of her, and Josh with his arm around her shoulders.

Sarah broke free and ran towards Riley, but then stopped and stared into his expressionless eyes; at his arms, half-raised towards her. “Spike – what’s happened to him?” 

Spike bit his lower lip. He didn’t really want to tell her, but he had to, or Riley might get packed off to a hospital, where they could do nothing for him.

“His soul’s been banished from his body,” Spike said. “By magic.”

Sarah gasped; she clasped one of Riley’s limp hands in hers.

“But we can get it back … I think.”

Sarah turned desperate eyes on Spike. “How? Who did this to him?”

“Don’t fret.” Spike patted Sarah’s arm. “Already got someone working on the ‘how.’ As for who did it –” Spike’s face hardened. “They’ve been dealt with to my satisfaction. Let’s just take him inside – try and get some liquids into him, so he doesn’t dehydrate. ”

They managed to get Riley up one step at a time, and began walking him towards the kitchen.

Spike glanced around. “Where’s Al?”

“In her room,” Sarah said. “She wanted to help search, but we said ‘no’, so now she’s sulking.”

“Best leave her there then.” Spike looked at Riley. “Seeing him like this’d only upset her. Maybe we can tell her he’s contagious, or something.”

“I heard that!” Al called out. “It’s not fair. I was the only one, apart from Graham, who said we should look for him.” She peered out of her room.

“Riley!” She cannoned towards him, and grabbed him round the waist; Riley gave like a sack of potatoes. Al backed away again. “What’s happened? He’s like a zombie, or something.”

“He’s not well. But we’re going to make him better.” Spike resisted the urge to say ‘I promise’, because – right now – confidence wasn’t especially high. “C’mon – let’s get him settled.”

While Spike and Todd got Riley seated in the kitchen, Sarah, Josh and Graham hovered, and Al hopped from foot to foot, looking as if she’d really like to run away.

“Hey, Al.” Spike snapped his fingers. “Bring Riley some water, will you, pet?”

She fetched a glass, and by the time she’d filled it and brought it over, she was looking a bit more like herself.

Spike put the glass to Riley’s lips; Riley opened his mouth and took a little. Water dribbled down his chin.

Once again, Spike felt tears come into his eyes.

There was a knock at the front door, and Sarah hurried to open it.

Spike was on her heels. “This is Willow. She’s the Good Witch. Willow – this is Sarah, Riley’s mum.”

Willow gave a brief smile, came in, and beckoned to Spike. In a low voice, she said, “It’s not good news. I’ve searched all the websites I can think of, but the nearest Orb I can find is in Tibet, and the monks don’t want to let it go. Giles sold his last one today, and the suppliers are all out. Either there’s a whole mess of paper needs weighing down, or lots of people are busy re-ensouling vampires.”

Spike sagged. “Maybe you’re just tired. Come in, have a cuppa, then we can try again. There’s gotta be one, somewhere.” He frowned. “Wait a minute – get that ritual down off your site, pronto, or we’ll never find one.”

Willow’s eyes widened. “Of course!” She bobbed back out of the door.

Spike leaned against Sarah, resting his head on her shoulder.

She hugged him, hard. “I feel so stupid. What happened to me? And Josh too. It was like we forgot who we were.”

“Magic.” Spike spat the word out. “And we’ll have to use more of it, if we’re to get Riley back. Don’t like messin’ with the forces, myself, but it seems like we’ve got no choice.”

Back in the kitchen, Riley was still sitting, staring straight ahead of him, with his hands on his knees. Jess was pressed up against his leg, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Al was standing in the corner by the fridge, looking totally freaked out. Todd, Josh and Graham stood in another corner, talking gravely, and glancing at Riley as though they thought whatever was wrong with him might, indeed, be catching.

The door banged, and a moment later Willow appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Woah!” She pulled up short.

Spike looked sharply at her. “What’s up?”

“Magic,” she said. “There’s a whole mess of it in here.”

“Well, yeah. Riley’s under a –”

Willow shook her head. “It’s not that.”

She took a few paces forward, with her hands out to either side of her, like she was holding a big invisible bubble between her fingertips; she homed in on the kitchen table, and splayed her hands on it. “Again, I say – ‘Woah!’”

Spike clenched his jaw. “And yet again, I say, _‘What is it?’_ "

Willow’s eyes were wide; the pupils, huge. “That’s some powerful mojo!”

“Mojo?” Sarah looked intently at her. “What do you mean?” 

“White magic.” Willow ran her fingers over the carvings, an expression of bliss on her face.

Josh looked dubious. “It’s just a table. I’d have thought you’d seen one before. We eat our dinner off of it, and carve stuff in it, when we’ve a mind to.”

“You can’t really believe that.” Willow laughed. “And you don’t. We both know it’s much more than that. I can feel the power coming off it. All the hours you guys have spent sitting around it, putting energy into it – longing, desire, hope and love, and grief – it’s turned it into a big …” she looked at Spike. “What’s that thing called, that stores energy?”

“Capacitor?” Todd supplied.

“Yeah, one of those.” She stared at the table again, tracing the most recent carving of Riley’s name – the one with the dried blood in the grooves. “Is this Riley’s blood?”

“I nicked him with a penknife the other day.” Sarah dropped her gaze. “It was an accident.”

Willow beamed. “That’s excellent. This table might not be a spirit vault for the dead, but it sure is an anchor for the living. I don’t need an Orb of Thessulah. I can use this.”

“Yeah?” Spike said. “You sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure. I can use it to draw what we’ve lost of Riley back here, and, kind-of, recharge him. Does that make sense?”

“You’re the expert.” Spike couldn’t help feeling this was one hell of a risk. “We don’t want to lose him, or get him stuck in the table, or something.”

“Don’t worry. I can do this!” Willow’s eyes shone with confidence. “I just need to go and look up the Romanian word for ‘table’.”

She hurried out, leaving everyone staring at Spike for an explanation.

“There’s a ritual for restoring someone’s soul. It’s usually – well, occasionally – used on vampires.”

Sarah nodded. “I guess that’s why you’re –”

“No,” Spike said flatly. “But she did it to a friend of mine. Made him very grumpy.”

He sat down beside Riley, and took one of his partner’s hands in his; everyone else tried not to look at them. Sarah started making tea,

When Willow came back, she sat down opposite Riley, and began setting out candles and incense from her own supplies. She glanced at Spike. “You said you had some animal bones?”

“I have a rabbit’s skull I found today,” Al volunteered. “It’s so cool, you can see all the tiny little curly bits in its ...”

Willow made a shooing gesture.

“I’ll go get it.” Al ran off.

“So … do you need some privacy to do this, Red?”

Willow cocked her head. “You’re all Riley’s friends, right?” She looked around the room at each of them in turn. “I mean, I guess you all … you all love Riley?”

“Of course,” Sarah said.

Spike nodded, and rubbed a hand across his eyes. The other men shuffled their feet, and grunted manly assent.

“In that case, I think it can only help if you all stay. Sit around the table with him.”

They looked nervously at each other; no one seemed to want to be the first to choose a seat. Then Al ran in, with the rabbit’s skull in her hand. Sensing the tension, she slowed to a walk, and went to place the skull in front of Willow.

“Take a seat,” Willow said.

“Can I?”

“You love Riley, don’t you?” 

Al nodded vigorously. “Sure I do. And Spike.”

Willow glanced across at Spike, a faint smile quirking her lips; Spike shrugged.

“Is this to make Riley better?” Al asked.

“We hope so,” Sarah said, with a tired smile.

“Okay then.” Al plonked herself down next to Riley. The rest of them came and took seats.

“We gonna do this, or what?” Spike said.

“Looks like it.” Willow looked a little nervous now. “Put your hands on the table, and concentrate. Think about Riley, and bringing him back, ’k?”

“Wait just a minute,” Spike said. “Should I be here? I mean, will I spoil the focus of the ritual? What with being …” He raised an eyebrow at Willow, and realised, as he did, that Todd was the only person in this crowded room who didn’t know what he was. He’d fix that, some day soon.

Willow considered. “Our vessel – the table – has much stronger links with Riley than with you. So long as it’s Riley who’s in all our minds, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good,” Spike said. “Couldn’t stand it if I had to spend the rest of my life moping.”

Willow smirked.

“Excuse me.” Sarah put a hand up. “Should we be touching?” 

Willow nodded. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Most of them just touched fingertips, but Al grabbed Riley’s thumb in her fist, and held Sarah’s hand, and Spike twined Riley’s fingers with his. By common consent, everyone closed their eyes.

Then Willow began to chant.

“‘Quod perditum est, invenietur,  
Nici mort, nici al fiinţei –’”

Spike began to think of all the times he and Riley had shared: of their first meeting in the Initiative; their first time, in the Crypt; that night at the posh hotel, with the bath oils, and the massive bed. He felt his heart begin to pound in his chest; his face was hot. Then turned his thoughts towards their first night at the farm, because here was where Riley’s soul needed to be. 

“‘Te invoc spirit al trecerii,  
Gods, bind him, cast his heart from the evil realm –’”

Spike thought he felt Riley’s fingers twitch slightly.

“‘Te implor, Doamne; nu ignoră aceasta rugăminte,  
Lăsa ascet tabel să fie vasul care-i vă transportă sufletul la el.’”

The table began to feel warm under Spike’s fingertips. He opened his eyes, and saw all the carvings on the table filling up with molten gold. Willow’s hands were splayed flat on the wood; gold lettering – the names of the family’s loved ones – began rippling up her arms, then all the way up her neck and face.

“‘Este scris, aceasta putere este dreptul poporul meu de a conduce,  
Redă trupului ce separe omul de animal.  
Aşa să fie, cu ajutorul acestui magic tabel.’”

Willow’s eyes glowed gold, and her hair stood out around her head: a golden halo – the tips, bright, like a fibre-optic lamp.

“‘Aşa să fie! Aşa să fie!  
Acum! Acum!'”

Spike felt something pulse around the circle. For a brief moment, the hands and faces of everyone gathered there lit up with the same gold writing, as it rippled out in a pincer movement that started from Willow, and ended at Riley.

Riley’s eyes flew wide open; they too were bright gold. Riley gasped twice, stiffened, and then slumped forwards, with his arms on the table, and his head on his hands.

He was sound asleep.

~~


	18. Forgiving

Everyone blinked and looked around at each other’s stunned faces, and then at Riley. He was snoring.

“I think that worked.” Willow’s hair retained the slightest hint of gold, and her eyes were very bright. The table still glowed, though the effect was fading, and the carved names looked as though they’d been writ in fine gold ink.

Sarah stood up and took a step towards Riley. She seemed afraid to touch him. “Should we wake him? Just to make sure?”

Willow looked intently at Riley. “No, he’s fine. Well, as fine as –”

Todd raised his eyebrows. “You can tell, just by looking at him?”

Willow nodded. “I checked his aura. He’s very tired, but he’s all in one piece, so we should probably just let him sleep it off. He’s gonna be pretty embarrassed when he wakes up.”

Josh scratched the back of his neck. “He’s not the only one who’ll want to forget any of this happened.”

“Yeah, you guys were being really weird.” Al folded her arms, and looked exceptionally pleased with herself.

“Let’s not play the blame game.” Willow put on her disapproving face. “Nobody wins. It’s nobody’s fault, except that Professor Walsh, and she … won’t be troubling us any more.”

Graham put up a hand. “Are you sure? Because that’s what we thought, when they locked her up. But she’s –”

“Quite sure. Professor Walsh –” Willow glanced at Al: “– saw the error of her ways, and we sent her away with a flea in her ear.”

Al’s eyes widened. “You killed her didn’t you?”

“No.” Willow looked decidedly guilty.

Josh raised an enquiring eyebrow, and Spike’s slight answering nod didn’t escape Al’s notice. “Was it a shoot out?”

“No!” Willow persisted. “There was no –”

“I mean with bolts of magic and stuff, like on –”

“’Becca!” Josh said sternly. “It’s time you were in bed.”

Spike mouthed: ‘later’, and Al subsided. 

Sarah looked at her watch. “Well, if you’re sure everything’s okay, I think we should _all_ try and get a good night’s sleep.” She touched Riley’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Think I’ll be getting along.” Todd rose from his seat at the table. “Guess you’ll be staying here, Spike?”

“Course.” Spike’s fingers were still entwined with Riley’s. “Thanks, Todd.” 

“Any time. Glad I could help.” Todd laid a hand on Spike’s shoulder, then departed.

Sarah turned to Willow. “It’s awful after everything you’ve done for us, but I don’t have a free bedroom. Is it okay if I make up a bed for you on the sofa?”

“Sure.” 

“’Becca, are you going to bed now?” 

“Can’t I just wait until Riley wakes up? I want to show him the big bruise he gave me, shooting hoops.”

Spike glared ferociously at her. “You go easy on him. Keep quiet about it, unless he says anything first, or you’ll have me to deal with, okay?”

“Okay.” Al ran and kissed Josh. “Night Pops.” She high-fived Graham, then formally shook hands with Willow. “Thanks, Willow. That was really neat.”

“You’re welcome.”

Al peered at Riley for a moment, then she threw her arms around Spike’s neck, and closed her eyes. “I know you guys are gonna be alright.”

Spike hugged back. “Good work, kid.”

Al punched him on the arm, and trundled out, and Sarah followed her.

Graham turned to Willow. “So … this was magic, right?” 

“Oh yeah. Big time.”

“So, Professor Walsh was doing magic? And that’s what’s been trapping me here, these last few days? Stopping me going more than a mile or so from the house?”

“That’s right.”

Josh grinned. “And here, I thought you just liked our company.”

Willow pulled the snow-globe out of her pocket and showed it to Graham.

He stared into it; at himself, sitting at the table looking into a snow-globe at himself, sitting at the table looking into a … “Woah.”

“Recursive, much?” Willow snapped her fingers in front of him, snatched the globe, and hid it away. “I’ll have it de-fused by tomorrow morning, then you should be okay. But I’ll be here if you have any trouble.”

“Oh, I’ll have plenty trouble.” Graham scratched his head. “I’ve been AWOL from my unit for nearly a week. Dunno how I’m gonna explain that.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll give you a talisman that’ll make them accept any explanation you come up with.” Willow grinned like a Cheshire cat. “You can even tell them your goldfish died, and they’ll give you as much retrospective compassionate leave as you want.” 

“Really?” Graham’s eyes widened. “That would be ... dishonest, but great.”

“I’ll leave it here for you to pick up, in case you have to leave before I’m awake.”

“Don’t you be giving those to any of my hands,” Josh said. “I’ll end up broke!”

Willow smiled. “I won’t.”

“Thanks.” Graham nodded at Willow. “Um … Spike?”

Spike looked up.

“You did good. Thanks for doing what you did for Riley. Given me stuff to think about.”

Spike nodded. “Well, don’t think too hard, if something’s taking a chunk out of you.” 

“Sound advice. I won’t.”

As Graham went out, Sarah came back in. “Willow, your bed’s made up.”

“Thanks.”

Willow showed no sign of moving, and Spike felt Sarah and Josh’s eyes upon him too. 

“Well, this is …” Sarah began.

Josh gave a wry grin. “We’ve all been made fools of, these last few days.”

“I have this stuff called ‘Lethe’s Bramble’,” Willow volunteered. “If you like, I can use it to make you forget what happened.”

Sarah shook her head. “Don’t you dare. We need to remember. Maybe it’ll help us be more vigilant – stop anything like this ever happening again. And I don’t want to forget what Spike’s done – bringing Riley back to us.”

“No need to go on about it.” Spike stared at his hands. “If it hadn’t been for me, that bitch, Walsh, might never have come here.”

“But she might have already done something to Riley,” Willow put in. “Ethan said this plan of Professor Walsh’s dates back to Sunnydale. No, you should get the credit for this, Spike. You kept your head, when all around them were losing theirs.”

“Yeah well …” It was true. Hadn’t been easy, but he’d put the team together, and they’d got the job done. Proper little Scooby, he was turning into. 

Sarah came and laid a hand on his shoulder. “All I know is – we’re grateful. Maybe tomorrow you can tell us more about it. But now, I think it’s time we took ourselves off to bed.”

Josh grunted. “Sounds good to me.” He heaved himself out of his seat. “Good work.” As he followed Sarah out, he slapped Spike on the back.

“I’ll just stay here,” Spike said. “Till he wakes up.”

For a while, Willow just sat staring at him across the table.

Finally, Spike couldn’t take it any more. “Why you looking at me like that?” 

“It’s just that … the Polgara demon chose Maggie. It was looking for somewhere soulless to set up home, and it chose her. But you were closer.” Willow peered at him. “Are you sure no one’s done a restoration spell on you? Maybe while you weren’t looking?”

“Positive,” Spike said. “I just don’t think things are as black and white as Giles and Buffy say they are. Bloody Watchers’ Council propaganda, if you ask me. Way I see it, there’s degrees of soullessness, ranging from Angelus to … well, I can’t think of anyone really good, but you take my meaning.”

“I think I get that.”

“Not saying I’ve got a soul, or anything poncey like that. Just – maybe a bit more’n some other vamps. And definitely more than that bitch-monster ever had.”

It was suddenly quiet – Riley had stopped snoring. They looked at him. He was still asleep, but his eyes were moving behind the lids, and he whimpered, and batted at his face with his free hand.

“It’s okay, Riley.” Spike smoothed Riley’s hair. “You’re home.”

Riley opened his eyes, and looked up at Spike. Then he closed them again, and exhaled deeply.

Jess, who’d been sitting quietly beside him the whole time, stood up on her hind legs, put her paws on his lap, and licked his cheek.

Riley took hold of the ruff of fur around her neck, and buried his face in it. Then he was sobbing, as if his heart would break.

Willow got up and put the kettle on. 

~~

After a while, Riley lifted his face from the dog’s neck, and cast a devastated look at Spike.

“Hey.” Spike smiled tentatively. “Good to see you.”

Riley shook his head, pushed back his chair, stood up, and left. 

Spike followed him, but stopped on the porch; Riley was holding up a hand, telling him not to follow. He watched Riley go into the cabin, and close the door behind him.

Spike sighed, and went back to the kitchen. He slumped down into his chair.

Willow looked quizzically at Spike. “You’re not going with him?”

“Nah. Think I’ll just give him a bit of time to himself.”

Spike stirred his tea, staring into his mug. “How’s this ‘Lethe’s Bramble’ work then?”

“Well, you can use it in different ways. You can just put a sprig under somebody’s pillow, and tell them to forget something fairly minor, like, that you spilled pasta sauce on their new sweater.” Willow folded her hands in front of her, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt. “Or you can burn it, for a more extensive mind-wipe, like, if you robbed a bank.” Her brow crinkled. “Not that I would do _that_ ...”

Spike considered. “So, if I wanted, I could make Riley forget everything he did over the last few days?”

Willow grimaced. “Was it really bad?”

Spike didn’t look at her. “There’s stuff I don’t think he’ll be very happy about.”

“I can get you some now if you want.” Willow rummaged in her bag.

It might be a kindness, to let Riley forget about having fallen out with his family, and – more especially – about the incident in the barn. On the other hand …

“No. Thanks for the offer, but, I don’t think so. It wouldn’t be right to do that to him.”

Willow frowned. “Why not?”

“Riley’s had his mind messed with enough, without me adding to it.”

Willow shrugged, as if she didn’t really get it. “Well, how about a forgiveness spell? It’s non-invasive, and you could set it up quite easily.”

She took some candles from her bag, and laid them out. “White is for cleansing, pink is the colour of love, blue is for harmony, and green is supposed to promote healing. There’s a simple incantation –”

“Oh … I don’t know.” Spike shook his head. “All seems a bit unnecessary. Anything he’s done, I forgive him, already. Don’t need a spell to make that happen.”

“But it might help him to believe it.”

Spike pursed his lips. “I’ll make him believe it.” He got to his feet. “Goodnight, Red. And thanks.”

“Night, Spike.”

But when he got to the front door, Spike stopped and turned back.

Willow was waiting expectantly.

“Okay, give me the candles and crap for the forgiveness thing. Not saying we’ll use ’em, mind …”

Willow handed him a bag. 

~~

He found Riley sitting on the edge of the bed, with his head in his hands. Riley looked up at him. His eyes were dead: not in the zombie-like way they were before, but dead of hope, and joy.

Spike squared his shoulders, and went in. He didn’t say anything, but he opened the bag, read the instructions Willow had quickly scribbled in pink ink on a sheet of paper, and began setting candles in saucers and ashtrays around the room. 

He could feel Riley watching him, but he didn’t say a word.

After a few moments, Riley said, “Okay. What are you doing?”

“Forgiveness spell.” Spike didn’t look at him. “It’s just a ritual. You don’t need it, but it might make you feel better.”

“Don’t _need_ it?” Riley said. “You think I don’t need it?”

“Course not.” Spike turned to face him. “Wasn’t your fault. This was something that was done to you. Your old Professor was using magic to trap some part of you – the better part – in that jar. She manipulated you. You parents, Al – they all understand. They were affected too.”

“You weren’t,” Riley said softly. “And what I did to you – ”

“That?” Spike scoffed. “Could have stopped you. I’m a vampire. I’m stronger than you – remember? Could have stopped you, any time I wanted to.”

Riley’s face twisted in horror. “Well, why didn’t you? Why did you let me do those things, Spike –”

“Tactics, mate. Had an idea someone was spying on us, and I needed to go somewhere safe, where I could work out how to set things right. Wanted them to think I’d given up on you, so they’d let me drop off their radar. So I had to let you give me a good reason to leave.”

“But I didn’t know that.” Riley’s voice was thick with tears. “What I did – I can’t stand that some part of me – any part of me – wanted to do that.”

“You didn’t.” Spike went down on his haunches and looked up into Riley’s face. “Ethan said Maggie Walsh was putting thoughts in your head. Thoughts that had no place being there. You were just as much a victim as I was.”

Riley shook his head.

“Look – let’s just do this ritual, okay? See if it makes you feel any better. Then, if it doesn’t, Willow’s got this stuff that can make you forget. You can use it, if you want. I think you should. No need for you to feel bad about something you did when you had no choice.”

“I don’t deserve to forget.”

“Whatever.” Spike went on lighting candles. When he’d lit five sets of three, set at equal distances round the room, he picked up the paper again, and began to read.

“What was done is done. Hebe, Goddess of Forgiveness, may you grant your peace, and let your gentle blessings rain down on Riley Finn. Let what’s past –”

Then Spike huffed. “You know what?” He screwed the paper up into a ball, and threw it at Riley’s head, hitting him on the ear.

Riley stared at him.

“This is all bollocks,” Spike said. “If I had to get forgiveness for all the horrible things I’ve done, I’d need to immolate half a continent’s worth of candles.”

“Maybe we should just try –”

“No. You don’t need it. I forgive you. I do. Can’t you feel it?” Spike knelt on the floor at Riley’s feet, and took Riley’s left hand in his right.

Riley pulled away; he hid his hand behind his back.   
“You took the ring off.” Spike tried to keep his voice steady. “I know. No need to hide it.”

Riley took Spike’s hand in both of his. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why, but I didn’t think it was working any more, so I took it off. I felt so alone. I didn’t want to see it there, and not feel –”

“And now?” Spike stood up, ready to leave, if the answer wasn’t what he’d hoped.

Riley stood up as well, got the ring out of his pocket, and put it in Spike’s hand. “I’d like to wear it again. If you still want –”

Spike gripped Riley’s left hand again, and slid the ring onto the third finger. At the same time, he pressed his lips to Riley’s. ‘I forgive you,’ he thought, as loudly as he could. ‘I love you, and I forgive you.’

He must have got through. Riley melted against him, and clung to him, shaking.

“God, I’ve missed you so much,” Riley choked out against Spike’s shoulder. Then he clung on even tighter.

Spike patted his back. “There, it’s okay. I got you. It’s fine, it’s alright now.” 

They stayed like that for a while. At last, Spike said, “Makes a change I suppose – me rescuing you from something, ’stead of the other way round.”

“I don’t know how you figure that. You already rescued me from Professor Walsh, once before.”

“From the cell I was sitting in, it looked more like you were rescuing me.”

“I guess. But if you hadn’t come along – brought me to my senses – God know what she would have done with me. Implanted stuff in me, or transplanted bits of me onto a demon, or the other way round. I had a lucky escape then, and this time – well, you really came through for me.”

~~

At last, Riley dares to kiss Spike, and the response is warm and generous. Spike really does forgive him.

But it isn’t enough. Riley needs to make amends, because Spike forgave him too easily. Maybe Spike feels that what was done to him in that barn – what Riley did to him – was no more than he deserves, and that won’t do.

Spike saved him: not on his own, but he did it nonetheless. Without Spike, he’d have been lost, and no one would have been able to do a damn thing about it, or even cared.

Riley wishes he could make the ring work in reverse, but he’ll have to find some other way to show Spike exactly how much better he deserves. So he drops to his knees, and looks up at Spike with worship in his eyes.

“Sure?” Spike says. “We don’t have to … I mean, you need rest and –”

But Riley is already undoing Spike’s jeans.

Spike tilts his head, raises one eyebrow. “Alright then,” he says breathlessly, as Riley starts to kiss and suck his cock.

Riley feels a surge in Spike – pride, newly awakened. Spike strips off his tee and stands there with his hands behind his head, rocking into Riley’s mouth. Riley draws off slowly, and Spike groans, but it’s a good groan.

“Hold that … thought,” Riley says.

Spike grins and cups his own balls, keeping things on the boil, while Riley strips him of his boots and jeans.

When Riley kisses Spike’s feet, the feedback from the ring is intoxicating. He wants Spike to feel more of it. Spike deserves to feel like his god; his master. 

And Spike gets it … what he’s doing, so this time, when Riley goes to take Spike’s cock in his mouth, Spike denies him; holds it away from him, and thrusts his hips.

Riley rubs his cheek against Spike’s thigh, then nuzzles his balls, and into the crease of his groin, and Spike puts his foot on the bed, so Riley can lick and kiss him between his thighs.

He hears Spike taking short, sharp breaths, and takes each of Spike’s balls into his mouth in turn; now Spike lets Riley have his cock – lets him take it all in, and holds Riley’s head, while he rocks in and out, using him, just a bit.

Riley squeezes his ass, and Spike comes down his throat without a sound.

Spike sits – collapses – down on the bed and takes Riley’s face between his hands. “Thank you.” He runs his thumb over Riley’s lower lip, then passes him a bottle of Bourbon from the bedside table.

Riley takes a swig, never taking his eyes off Spike.

“You okay?”

Riley nods and licks his lips, waiting to see what Spike wants next.

“Sure?”

“Sure.” 

“Then strip.” Spike jerks his chin. “You’re mine aren’t you? Haven’t seen you for a while. Wanna see you with your clothes off.”

Riley swallows, and gets up, then almost trips over his jeans in his haste to comply, knowing how much Spike wants it. His cock stands straight up, and he’d be embarrassed, but again, the look on Spike’s face, and the joy he feels in his power, are enough to bring a grin to Riley’s face. 

“Get on the bed, you gorgeous hunk of cowboy, and stick that sweet arse in the air for me.”

Again, Riley stumbles on the way to the bed – nearly falls on his face, but manages to get there. His cock is so hard it hurts, but it’s a good hurt. He wants to do whatever Spike wants, and if Spike wants him with his ass in the air, and his cock slapping against his belly, while he hammers into him, that’s absolutely fine with him.

He’s never seen – never felt – Spike like this before: cocky; confident; pleased with himself; on top of the world, and it’s amazing. And Spike fucks him like he’s never been fucked in his life, with joy, and pride, and none of the doubt or insecurity he’s felt before.

Spike feels like an equal.

He slaps Riley’s ass, fondles his sac, strokes his flanks like he’s a prize stallion, and enters him like a monarch taking possession of kingdom, and when he’s seated deep inside him, he pulls him upright, and brings him off first, because he knows he really needs it, not because he deserves it.

All night, Spike never makes him beg, but gives, and gives, and makes Riley feel like a new man; makes him know, without a doubt, that he’s forgiven.

And when dawn comes, and the candles have all burned down, Spike finds one more – a pink one, for love – and he lights it. 

“There. See?” He looks unspeakably smug, and who could blame him, after a night of such athleticism and invention. “Forgiven.” 

~~

When they’d slept, and woken again, Spike made them tea, and came back to the warm bed.

Riley rolled onto his side, and looked Spike in the eye. “I’m still not sure I understand what Professor Walsh did to me.”

“She laid some enchantments over you, which isolated you from everyone who was important to you.” Spike stroked Riley’s furrowed brow. “It messed you up good and proper. Then she did a ritual to banish your soul completely, and tried to replace it with essence of Polgara. But it didn’t work. Then Willow called your soul back, using the table as some kind of magical power source.”

“Wow!” Riley blinked. “After Professor Walsh did that ritual, I don’t remember a thing. It was like I stopped existing, until I woke up in the kitchen. But you … if you don’t have a soul …”

Spike sniffed. “Way I figure it, your soul is made up of the people you care about, and who care about you. Most vamps lose all that, and just get left to fend for themselves. I was lucky, in a way. Angelus was a bastard, but at least I still had some kind of family, even if it was twisted as hell. I had Dru. I had connections – things I cared about. Got even more now. That’s why demon went into Maggie, instead of me.”

“It went into Maggie?” Riley’s eyes widened. “Talk about ‘hoist by her own petard.’ I missed all that. So what happened to her? Is she still a threat – roaming around out there, with a demon inside her?”

“Ah.” Spike bit his lip. “You professor’s dead, Riley. We tried to send her back to prison, but there wasn’t much left of her, and what there was … didn’t survive the trip.”

Riley closed his eyes. “That’s okay.” He blew out a breath. “And the English guy?”

“Ethan? He helped us. In the end, he helped us. We couldn’t have done it without him. Then he buggered off.”

Riley shook his head. “How do you do it, Spike?”

“How do I do what?”

“Keep going … keep faith in me, after all the times I’ve let you down? Keep going, when everything’s against you?”

“Oh, that.” Spike smiled softly. “Mostly? Now? I think, ‘What would Riley do? What would he tell me to do?’ That usually keeps me in the right track.”

~~

When everyone was awake, the breakfast meeting round the kitchen table was a cheerful one.

Graham had called in, and told his commanding officer some half-truths; the talisman seemed to work, even long-distance. He and Willow were both booked to go back West, on the same flight. 

Willow made a call to Tara, and Spike heard her saying “No, I haven’t been over-doing the magic. Just did what I had to do.”

Spike shook his head and grinned at her, and she had the grace to look embarrassed.

Josh looked at Spike with new respect, and never called him ‘Boy’ again, after that.

Spike took on a new mission in life – to find Todd a girlfriend.

And the horses – when Riley emerged from the cabin, they galloped across the field towards him, with joyful sounds of greeting.

~~

Fin


End file.
